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THE 


S-8o 

SPRAY OF HONEYSUCKLE. 


CAST UP BY THE WAVES. 

BY 

/ 

MISS MAY SPENCER. 


GAZETTE PUBLISHINGlCOMPANY, 
LEITCHFIELD, KY. 




1 Ht L LR/ K'Y OF 
CCNGRtSS, 

Ty/d Copies Received 

FES 21 1903 

Co p, nt hrury 

CUSS CV| XXc. No, 

**1 Va<fc 0 

COPY B. 


COPYRIGHTED 

BY MISS MAY SPENCER. 
— : 1903 :— 


• » • . « • 




* « 
*.* * 




PREFACE. 


Friends, unknown reader, perhaps some of 
you will say that I had better employ my time in 
something- other than novel writing-. 

Perhaps you are right.' But do we not, all of 
us, in our youthful days have some secret, cher- 
ished vocation which we should like to assume in 
life? Thoug-h mine is not of novel writing-, but 
from childhood I have liked and cultivated my 
fondness for reading- and writing-. When only a 
tot, long- before I could read, my most intense de- 
lig-ht was to have my father relate to me what he 
had read in books, papers, etc. I would ask him 
not to read to me, but to explain in his own vocab- 
ulary, for my childish brain was too small to com- 
prehend what the “big- words” meant. Part of 
my book is truth, part fiction, though, as is gen- 
erally the case, more is of the latter. I ask you, 
criticise and censure not my book too severely as 
it is my first, and my lore of novel writing is very 
limited. 
































. , 




THE SPRAY OF HONEYSUCKLE, 

OR 

CAST UP BY THE WAVES. 

— o — 

BY (MISS) MAY SPENCER. 

— O — 

CHAPTER I. 

ON BOARD THE SILVERWAVE. 

The prow of the massive ocean liner Silver- 
wave, was slowly and gracefully plowing her 
way through the moonlit waves of the placid 
waters of the mighty Pacific. The great steam- 
er — which was bound for the port of San Fran- 
cisco — looked like a mighty swan resting on a 
watery fulcrum. 

Several passengers were on board the Silver- 
wave consisting of both sexes. The night was 
something beautiful. The radiant moon, high 
in the blue dome above, was flooding the restless 
waters with rays of soft, silvery light. The 
moon’s rays fell on the waves making them look 
like thousands of tiny, twinkling stars. On deck 
of this pretty steamer several gentlemen were 


ON BOARD THE SILYERWAVE 


2 

grouped together making music with a guitar, 
violin and madolin. Standing some twenty feet 
apart from these gentlemen, was a beautiful 
girl seemingly absorbed in deepest meditation. 
She was leaning in a careless attitude against the 
railing that surrounded the deck, little dream- 
ing what a lovely picture she made. 

Her violet eyes were riveted on the silvery 
moon, and her hair of brightest gold was coiled 
high on her pretty head that set so admiringly on 
her white shoulders. Her complexion was of the 
fairest and her cheeks reminded one of two full 
blown roses. Dressed in a robe of purest white 
with lace gathered low around the pretty neck, 
her face raised wistfully toward the twinkling 
stars, she reminded one of the picture of St. 
Cecilia. She was not tall and slender. On the 
contrary she was low, heavyset with rounded 
arms and hips that any woman might envy. 

Such is the picture I paint you of Naoma 
Amelia Bruco. 

Suddenly, the gentlemen who were playing 
struck up the air, “Home, Sweet Home.” With 
a sad look Naoma Bruco turned away murmuring, 
“Home, Sweet Home, Ah! me, I have no home 
since poor Uncle Phillip is dead.” 

Speaking thus she turned away and with 
slow, graceful steps retreated to her cabin below 
and prepared to retire. 

The gentleman who was playing the guitar 
paused in the midst of the tune as Naoma’s beau- 
tiful figure passed down the deck. He asked, 
“Who is that lady with the golden hair?” 

No one answered him, for none knew her. 


ON BOARD THE SILVER WAVE 


3 


But Eugene Erring-ton — for ’twas he who asked 
the question — resolved that he would find out the 
name of this fair unknown and if possible, make 
friends with her. 

Naoma did not come on deck until late the fol- 
lowing evening. She was standing where she 
had stood the night before, watching the sun set. 
The sun’s fiery globe had dipped almost out of 
sight leaving a beautiful reflection on the waters. 

Naoma was standing alone looking at the 
vast expanse of waters spread about her. Glanc- 
ing in the direction of the disappearing sun she 
softly repeated to herself: 

“The sun low dipping- in the waters of the dark and deep 
blue main, 

Sent me back a g-ood night parting through a gold re- 
flected chain ” 

She thought how true the poetry suited the 
occasion and again directing her gaze toward the 
vanishing sun, softly repeated in a susurration 
voice: 

“Long I stood and meditated on the wondrous works of 
God, 

But my reverie was broken, softest footsteps near me 
trod.” 

Naoma paused quickly and raised her head 
for sure enough, “softest footsteps near her trod,” 
and there before her stood a handsome gentleman 
politely bowing to her. She felt half inclined to 
run away but his face looked kind and honest, 
and her curiosity got the better of her for she 
wondered very much what he had to say. 

“I beg your pardon, lady, but you looked so 
lonely I could not resist the temptation of coming 
to you; I have some pretty engravings here which 


4 


ON BOARD THE SILVERWAVE 


I should like you to see, if you care to look at 
them. But first allow me to introduce myself. I 
am Eug*ene Erring-ton at }^our service. My for- 
mer home was New York, but I have been abroad 
for one year, and am now on my way to Western 
Kentucky where my parents have recently locat- 
ed.” 

Naoma gdanced at him. Surely no harm 
would come of her knowing- this g-entleman. If 
she had only g-one away and left him — rude 
thoug-h it would have been — in after years many 
a heart pang* would have been spared them both. 

Naoma had never cared for any man, on the 
contrary, she half disliked the men and many 
were the broken hearts she had left behind her. 
She had no one in the wide world to love her and 
she was now on her wav to a distant relation who 
dwelt in Kentucky. All this had passed throug-h 
her mind and she had not returned the strang-er’s 
bow. 

He stood looking- at her; finally he asked: 
“Are we to be friends?” 

She started slig-htly and answered: 

“Oh! certainly, I should be gdad to have you 
for a friend for I am very lonely.” 

After they had seated themselves comfortably, 
Eug-ene turned to Naoma asking-: “Am I to 
know your name?” 

“Certainly,” she replied, “I am Naoma Amelia 
Bruco, and I too, am bound for Kentucky.” 

“That is g-ood,” he replied, “as we are both 
g-oing- to the same state perhaps we may see each 
other ag-ain.” 

They conversed about different lands and top- 


ON BOARD THE SILVER W AYE 


5 


ics and each told the story of their lives. 

What pleased Eugene most was that Naoma 
had said she was “heart whole and fancy free.” 
Possibly he might win this fair girl for his own. 
Did he? Time will tell. 

Already Eugene loved Naoma. And she? 
Well — she — loved him too. It was a case of love 
at first sight. They were seen quite often to- 
gether. The men of the steamer whispered that 
he was madly, passionately in love with the 
“blonde queen” as she was termed. 

About one week after Eugene and Naoma had 
become acquainted a storm arose on the ocean. 
Night had fallen and the lowering clouds hung 
around the ship and seemed to engulf it. Now 
and then the lightning flashed showing the foam- 
ing, raging waters. The wildest consternation 
prevailed. Most of the passengers on board had 
never seen a storm on the ocean and the scene 
was very exciting to them. 

The great ship rolled from side to side, first 
riding a high wave then dashing down, down as 
it seemed, to the depths of the dark blue sea. 
Naoma came on deck, her bright eyes dilated 
with terror. Eugene was there too, for he half 
expected Naoma. The captain ordered them be- 
low, saying it was against the rules to be on deck 
when a storm was raging. 

Eugene left Naoma for a moment and w^ent to 
the farther end of the boat to get a life preserver 
for her. As he was returning a vivid flash of 
lightning showed him a giant wave coming, 
which he knew would sweep everything on deck. 


6 


ON BOARD THE SILVERWAVE 


He saw that he could not reach Naoma so he 
cried wildly — 

“Run Naoma! Miss Bruco! run for your life!” 

But the wave did not touch Naoma; with an 
eager hungry greed it clasped, as it were, Eugene 
Errington, and with one mighty, fatal dash, 
plunged him into the sea! 

The men on the steamer knew it was certain 
death to send a boat after him; better one man’s 
life than three. 

Naoma, realizing Eugene’s peril, cried wildly — 

“Save him! Save him! I cannot let him die, 
I love him, indeed I do! If you do not save him 
I will jump in the sea and die with him!” 

“Pardon me lady, but we cannot save him, it 
is impossible;” so spoke the kindhearted captain, 
and Naoma hearing this, with a low moan, sank 
to the floor unconscious. She was carried to her 
cabin below and lay in a swoon for some time. 
When she at last returned to consciousness the 
truth flashed upon her. The only man she had 
ever loved was dead! She should never love an- 
other. No one should ever know her sorrow. 
She should never marry. She would meet 
Eugene in heaven and there claim him as her 
own. 


THE FOREST HOUSE 


CHAPTER II. 

THE FOREST HOUSE. 

In the Western part of Kentucky — situated 
about one mile from the Illinois Central railroad 
— an old brick mansion stands. Sir William and 
Lady Voorhees came from England and chose 
this as their future home. The mansion was sit- 
uated on a hill, from which the surrounding 
country could be seen. Magnificent oaks sur- 
rounded the pretty grounds. Not far from the 
house a dense grove of ancient poplar, oak, 
sugartree and walnut stood. A rippling brook 
ran through the grove. In spring it sang to the 
swelling buds and sprouting grass, and in autumn 
kept tune with the falling nuts and saucy chat- 
tering squirrels and jays. 

A flower garden stood near the house, and in 
summer it was a thing of beauty. Garden seats 
were scattered about in quaint little nooks and 
bowers, and in summer it was a sweet retreat in 
which to dream, or read away the long sultry 
hours. 

So, thought Irene Chrystal Hurst. She spent 
most all her spare time in the garden. She loved 
to sit in daytime and glance at the beautiful blue 
heaven above her. At night she would still sit 
there and look at the pale serene moon, some- 
times struggling athwart the fleecy clouds — 
sometimes with no clouds in her way — flooding 
the landscape with pale sweet light. Irene was 
an orphan, living with her great aunt, Lady 
Voorhees. She was treated as a Cinderella, 


8 


THE FOREST HOUSE 


never allowed to go in any of the rooms where 
guests were expected. 

Sir William and Lady Voorhees had two chil- 
dren, Rejoice, a dark brunette of exquisite beau- 
ty, and Lebon, a sweet, fair-haired child of five 
summers. 

To-day the Forest house was in an uproar. A 
distant relation was expected. 

Rejoice was wondering what this distant cousin 
was like, and wondered still more, if she would 
“beat her time” with Bert Danley, of Danley 
Dell. Bert was a handsome, jolly fellow whom 
Rejoice dearly loved, and worse than all she was 
madly jealous him. And now she was won- 
dering if this cousin could win him from her. 

With a flash of her dark eyes she muttered: 

“She had better not win his love from me; she 

or any one else. If they were to, I would . 

Here her voice died away in a terrible threat 
which was hardly audible. 

And little Lebon. She in the meantime, was 
wondering if her cousin wculllike her cat, Star, 
and pet dog, Hero. Rejoice came tripping in 
the library where her parents and Lebon were 
seated. 

“I wonder, mama, what that cousin will be 
like? I have imagined her in every form; tall, and 
slightly graceful; then again, low and ugly, with 
a profusion of fiery red hair and ancient, old-time 
dresses. And do you know papa, I half way 
fancy I shall not like her.” 

Lebon answered quickly: — “I know why; you 
think she will take Mr. Bert away from you.” 


THE FOREST HOUSE 


9 


A burning*, tell-tale flush mounted to the very 
roots of Rejoice’s hair, and turning*, she left the 
room. 

“I hope sister and Bert will marry, for he 
bring*s me candy, and then I like to waltz with 
him,” said little Lebon. 

‘.‘Hush, Lebon; you must not speak so,” cor- 
rected Lady Voorhees. Sir William looked up 
from the paper be was reading* and glanced at 
his heavy, jeweled watch. 

“Why,” he exclaimed in surprise,” it is almost 
train time and I must send John to the station 
with the carriage. The train is due at 1: 30 and 
it is now one o’clock.” 

In due time John was despatched to the station 
to bring Miss Naoma Bruco to her anxiously wait- 
ing relatives. 

Rejoice was in a fever of excitement. “I won- 
der what she is like?” she would keep repeating 
to herself. 

At the way-side station a crowd of young men 
and boys was gathered, as usual, at the one store 
the place afforded. They too were anxious to 
see the new cousin they had learned was coming 
that day. Even the boys, in jest, were quarreling 
which should pay her the first respects. 
Among the crowd were Robert Dawson, Vic and 
Bert Danley. 

Naoma Bruco, leaning quietly back in the 
coming train little dreamed how anxiously her 
arrival was being awaited. Finally, the boys 
grouped together at the far end of the store gave 
a start, and each trying to precede the other, 


10 


THE FOEEST HOUSE 


simultaneously rushed for the door. Did-you ask 
the cause ? The train was coming-. With a 
puff, and a groan, train No. 122 pulled up ; the 
ponderous drive wheels slackened their speed, 
the other wheels followed suit — the train was 
still. 

Off came two large trunks ; but the boys stand- 
ing open-mouthed never noticed these, but 
strained their eyes for the coming lady. There 
she was descending- the steps ! Was ever a step 
more graceful, a form more perfect^ than hers ? 

John, the footman, stepped up, and politely 
tipping his hat, asked : “Have I the honor of 
addressing Miss Naoma Bruco ?” 

In a low, sweet tone, the boys heard : “ Yes 

sir, I am she.” 

“This way, then, please and John led the 
way to the carriage. As Naoma descended from 
the platform she dropped a small bundle which 
she held in her hand. Robert Dawson sprang 
forward, picked up the bundle, and with a bow 
and a^smile which would have pleased the Presi- 
dent, handed it to her. Vic and Bert Danley 
looked daggers at him. With a gleam of triumph, 
Robert said : “ Now, who paid her the first re- 

spects ?” They all looked after the retreating 
carriage, and then Bert musingly said : “ By 

George ! wishing no harm to the occupants, but 
I wish the carriage would turn over so that I 
could fly to the rescue and pick the lady up, then 
Master Bob, I would be ahead of you.” 

Vic answered : “ And if those pretty, high- 

spirited horses should accidently scare at a hog 
in the fence corner, and should come rushing 


THE FOREST HOME 


11 


back this way, and I should fling* myself with a 
gesture of despair in front of them and check 
their mad flight — what then, cousin mine ?” 

But Bert had gone back into the store and did 
not hear the taunting* question. But each of 
the boys resolved to know this fair being*, 
and in time, each did to the sadness of his own 
heart. 

****** 

“ Yonder she is !” and Rejoice turned with a 
sig*h of nervous relief from the window where she 
had stood intently watching* the past ten min- 
utes. Lebon sprang* up saying* : “I am g*oing* to 
meet her first ; come Hero.” And away she 
sprang* to meet Naoma. Rejoice heard Lebon’s 
greeting to Naoma, then a servant opened the 
door, saying : “Miss Bruco. ” 

Slowly Naoma entered, wondering what these 
distant relations were like. Lady Voorhees came 
forward and greeted her kindly ; not so with Re- 
joice, for already she had noted how pretty Na- 
oma was. 

“ A dangerous rival,” she muttered to herself ; 
then after greeting her she coldly said: “I 
hope you havn’t had a tiresome journey ?” 

“Thank you,” answered Naoma, “I enjoyed 
my trip very much at first, but I am tired and 
worn out now and would like to go to my room 
and change my traveling dress.” 

Lebon stepped up to her and said: “First 
telL me about the big ocean you’ve crossed. Ma- 
ma said you came miles and miles on water, and 
I love to play about the water. Sometimes I take 


Vi 


THE FOREST HOUSE 


my doll, Nellie, down to the brook and fancy she 
is drowning- and brave old Hero rushes in and 
saves her. Now tell me about the ocean ; is it 
so much larger and deeper than our brook ?” 

Lady Voorhees and Rejoice were inclined to 
laugh at this simple, childish question ; but Na- 
oma had turned suddenly pale, and stood as one 
transfixed, with a far-away, dreamy look in her 
eyes. Then she answered : 

“ Please, I would rather not talk of the ocean ; 
I detest it and always shall. Please don’t ask 
me again dear.” 

Just then the servant came and took Naoma to 
her room. 

After she had gone Rejoice said to her mama: 
“ She talks like one who has a hidden secret 
of some kind.” 

Lad}^ Voorhees did not answer, but went to 
her room to prepare her toilet. Rejoice lingered 
awhile in the library, then went away to dress 
for dinner. When dinner was announced Nao- 
ma came down in a shower of blue and white. 
They all owned to themselves — even proud Re- 
joice — that she was beautiful. Her face was sad, 
and her violet-blue eyes had a yearning, pathetic 
look in them, but they all guessed it was on ac- 
count of the death of her Uncle Phillip. 


THE BALL 


13 


CHAPTER III. 

THE BATE. 

Several weeks after Naoma’s arrival, a grand 
ball was given in honor of her. Among the 
guests invited were Robert Dawson, Vic and 
Bert Danley. 

The day before the ball Naoma asked Rejoice 
whom she had invited. 

“ O, I don’t know, hardly. Lets see — there is 
George De Vaul, Annetta Errington, Alice ” 

Rejoice paused quickly, for Naoma’s face had 
turned pale as the name of Annetta Errington 
escaped her lips. 

Unconciously Naoma muttered : “ Annetta 

Errington ; oh, can it be his sis .” But she 

suddenly checked herself, already fearing she 
had said too much. 

“ Naoma, what a strange girl you are, you 
seem to deal in mysteries. 1 know you have a 
secret. Why not tell me, and relieve that strange, 
sad look you have on your face ? You don’t 
seem to enjoy anything. I detest stupid people ; 
and for mercy’s sake don’t wear that look the 
night of the ball, for I want it to be a success, 
and sad people are not liked at balls. I shall, 
that night, introduce you to my future husband 
and I warn you not to try and usurp my love, for 
the consequences might be fatal. I love Bert 
Danley and mean to win him by fair means or 
foul! There! I have told you what has been on 
my mind for several days. I am going into the 
garden now. Remember my warning!” and with 


14 


THE BALL 


a look in her eyes which heralded no good, Re- 
joice Voorhees passed from the room. 

After she had reached her favorite nook in the 
garden, she sank down, murmuring, “There! that 
was the best plan I knew of; I have my bluff in 
on her now and she won’t dare try to win him. I 
know Bert Danley. He will say she is cold, 
haughty, and all like that. We are not so rich 
as people think. My! the way I will shine when 
I am Mrs. Danley, mistress of Danley Dell, 
whose pretty towers I can just see through the 
tree-tops over yonder. The prize is well worth 
fighting for, and I shall lead a most gallant part 
in the battle. Let me see, — I will have a new 
wing added to the south side, and — but it will be 
a place of beauty when I have done with it.” 

Rejoice sat musing thus, while Naoma, left 
alone in the drawing room, was pondering over 
the strange, vehement words of her cousin. Re- 
joice need never fear of her winning Bert’s affec- 
tions for she could love no one but Eugene, She 
wondered if Annetta could be his sister. Did she 
look like him? She could hardly wait for the 
night of the ball. If Annetta looked like her 
lost love she should almost worship her. 

Finally, the night of the ball came at last. 
Naoma donned the same dress that she had worn 
the evening she stood on deck of the Silverwave. 
A strange fancy had seized her and she wanted 
to wear the dress that night. The same white 
lace was around the fair neck, her golden hair 
was arranged the same as on that moonlight 
night when Eugene Errington admired her. 
Very soon the guests began to arrive and Naoma 


THE BALL 


15 


was being- presented to them. She bowed to 
this one, exchanged a word of welcome to that 
one, noticing no one closely in particular until 
she heard — “Miss Annetta Erringtou.” Then 
her face lit up, a strange, yearning look came in- 
to her eyes, and with the greatest precaution she 
refrained from throwing herself into Annetta’s 
arms, sobbing out her sorrows to her. 

After the guests had all arrived and been pre- 
sented to her, Naoma made herself as charming 
as possible, though she told herself nothing 
could ever make her happy again. 

The ladies envied her, the gentlemen admired 
her. 

Rejoice ground her pretty teeth together as 
she saw Bert Danley approach Naoma and lead 
her to a seat at the farther end of the room. 
Then the music began and the gentlemen were 
seeking their partners for the dance. Very soon 
Rejoice saw Bert and Naoma whirling in a mazy 
waltz. How dare he! He had not once sought 
her that evening. Very well, she would soon 
break that up. 

How gracefully Naoma waltzed! One would 
judge from her appearance that such was not the 
case, but her every movement was grace itself. 

Naoma had noted every look, every movement 
of Annetta Errington. Eugene was a blonde, 
she a brunette. She was pretty, was Annetta, 
he'' large dark eyes matched the mid-night black- 
f , of her hair. In looks she did not resemble 
Eugene, but every movement of hers seemed to 
remind Naoma of her lost love. When Annetta 
came near her, it seemed to her that it was Eu- 


16 


THE EALL 


gene approaching - . She could no long-er bear 
this, she wanted to be alone, and excusing - her- 
self from Bert she slowly went out and leaned 
against the banister of the moon-lit piazza. An- 
netta Errington also excused herself and follow- 
ed the retreating form of Naoma. An unknown 
something drew her to Naoma. Annetta passed 
down the long hall and paused in the doorway 
leading to the piazza. She stood still, gazing at 
the picture presented to her. Naoma was stand- 
ing erect, one little hand resting on the banis- 
ter, gazing with a far-away look in her eyes at 
the moonlit landscape spread out before her. 

Annetta paused a moment as though trying to 
recall something she had forgotten, then she ap- 
proached Naoma and softly said: “Pardon me 
for following, but something seems to draw me 
to you, and do you know, when I saw you stand- 
ing there in the moonlight I fancied you were 
the same girl my brother wrote me about? When 
he crossed the Pacific some months ago he met 
and fell in love with a young girl. My brother 
is an artist and he painted her picture after he 
arrived in San Francisco. But he said he could 
not get the exact expression of her eyes. He did 
not have her to sit for the picture. So deeply in 
love was he that he did not think of painting her 
until after they had parted. He sent the picture 
to me and I prize it very highly. From the first 
moment I saw you, I guessed the painting and 
you were one and the same. The girl in the 
picture has the same hair and figure that you 
have. She is standing on an ocean steamer, one 
little hand is resting on the deck-railing and she 


THE BALL 


17 


is looking* with dreamy eyes across the waves at 
the setting* sun. When I stood looking* at you 
here in the moonlight, your hand resting on the 
banister, your eyes dreamily scanning the land- 
scape, is it any wonder that the picture was 
brought to my mind?” 

“No;” faintly answered Naoma. Then with 
an eagerness she could not control, she asked: 
“And your brother, where is he?” 

“He is travelling in New York where we used 
to live. He meant to come home at once, but he 
says he has no desire to see Kentucky for some 
time, yet.” 

Naoma did not answer and Annetta went on: 

“But the saddest of my story must come yet; 
the beautiful girl whom my brother painted was 
swept overboard and lost one night at sea while 
a storm was raging. My brother says he can 
love no one else, though he has been engaged to 
to his cousin, Celeste Harmon, for many years.” 
Naoma turned pale at this, but composed herself 
as best she could. Could it be herself whom An- 
netta was speaking of? It surely was, but An- 
netta did not know that Eugene had been 
drowned, and she could not — would not — tell her. 
Naoma being dazed at the suddenness of it all, 
had forgotten that Annetta said Eugene painted 
her picture after he arrived in San Francisco. 
She had gotten it into her head that Eugene was 
drowned and the same thoughts went with her 
for three long, weary years. Both girls stood in 
silence for some time. Finally, Annetta broke 
the silence: 


13 


THE BALL 


“And you are not the girl my brother painted, 
after all?” 

“I suppose not,” answered Naoma. 

“Then you must be some relation to her for 
the resemblance is very strong. I should be very 
glad to have you call on me at your earliest con- 
venience and I will gladly show the picture to 
you and I believe that you too will share my 
opinions.” 

Naoma thanked her; then their conversation 
was interrupted by Bert Danley, who had been 
searching for them the past ten minutes. 

Bert had just opened his mouth to say some 
gallant speech to Naoma, when Rejoice glided 
suddenly into their midst. 

“O, you all are admiring my roses, are you 
not? I was just coming to get a fresh one to put 
in my hair.” Then coldly to Bert: “This is our 
dance is it not?” 

“Oh! I beg your pardon, I had forgotten.” 
answered Bert. 

“You seem very forgetful of late, Bert Dan- 
ley.” 

Naoma heard this last retort from Rejoice as 
they passed through the door. Before Rejoice 
and Bert reached the ball-room Rejoice stopped 
and with flashing eyes asked sneeringly: 

“Well, what do you think of her?” 

“I think she is one of the most beautiful 
women I have ever seen.” 

“Thank you. You are very complimentary to 
the girl you expect to make your wife.” 

“Rejoice! I have never asked you to be my 
wife and if I keep my senses I never — ” but he 


THE BALL 


19 


checked himself, thinking- he had gone too far. 
Rejoice had not heard his last words for she had 
fled to her room, and reaching it, she had flung 
herself on her pretty bed and was spoiling her 
eyes by bitter weeping. She gnashed her teeth 
as she muttered: 

“He admires her! But Heaven help me, she 
shall not have him! I love him too well to give 
him up!” 

While Rejoice was above indulging in her 
grief, Bert was below paying his respects to 
Naoma. Noama and Annetta had returned to 
the ball-room and the dancing had begun in good 
earnest. 

That very night, bold, brave Bert Danley ask- 
ed Naoma to be his wife. He could wait no 
longer he told himself, for some one might win 
her from him. Naoma was overcome by the 
suddenness of his proposal and stood staring at 
him. She was on the point of telling what Re- 
joice had said about their engagement, but she 
wisely held her tongue. 

Bert pleadingly said: “Be my wife, Miss 
Bruco, and I will do all in my power to make you 
happy. I promise to devote my life to you. I 
do not ask you to marry me at once; I shall wait 
years for you if I may only gain you in the end. 
I beg you to excuse the suddenness of my propos- 
al, but I could not help asking you so I might 
know before it was too late, what my fate was to 
be.” 

Naoma looked sadly at him, then answered: 

“It is useless, Mr. Danley, I shall never marry. 
My heart, my love lies buried in the dark, cruel 


20 


THE BALL 


depths of the Pacific Ocean; I shall never love 
anyone else, and it would be wrong- to give my 
hand without my heart. I thank you for the 
honor you have bestowed upon me, but we can 
never be more than friends.” 

“Is your decision final, will you never change 
your mind?” 

“Never!” 

“Then good bye. But I will be a friend to 
you, if evenyou need such, come or send for me,” 
and bowing Bert Danley walked away sadder 
and wiser than ever before. 

The guests were leaving; the ball was over. 


IRENE CHRYSTAL HURST 


21 


CHAPTER IV. 

IRENE CHRYSTAE HURST. 

The day after the ball, Naoma went into the 
garden and seated herself to think. The story 
Annetta had told her had impressed her very 
much. Could it be she whom Eugene had paint- 
ed? No. Eugene had been drowned for she saw 
this with her own eyes. Annetta must be mis- 
taken in the resemblance of the picture, it was 
some one else, not she. Again she wondered 
what proud Rejoice would say if she knew what 
Mr. Danley had said to her. 

As she sat musing, her head bent toward the 
green sward at her feet, she heard footsteps ap- 
proaching. She looked but could see no one, 
whoever it was they must be beyond the dense 
veil of honeysuckle that grew near her. She was 
on the point of stepping out to investigate, when 
she raised her eyes and there before her stood a 
slender, girlish figure clad in a somewhat old, 
but clean pink dress. She was looking very 
much frightened and was saying: “Oh! I did not 
know you were here, I should not have come; 
please don’t tell Rejoice and I will go away.” 


22 


IRENE CHRYSTAL HURST 


“Why child, I am not going- to hurt you. Do 
you think I am a demon in disguise, and what 
have I to tell Rejoice?” 

“Ah! fair lady, you do not know and I cannot 
tell you.” 

“But who are you, anyway? Come, sit down 
by me and let us have a social chat. Do you be- 
long here?” 

“I stay here. Lady Voorhees is my great- 
aunt.” 

“But you were not at the ball last night.” 

“No, I am a sort of Cinderella, never allowed 
any of the pleasures Rejoice and Lebon enjoy. 
Would that I had wings, I would soar away to 
some large city and there become a nurse. I 
have always wanted to be a nurse ^nd I have 
told Lady Voorhees so, but she seems to think it 
would be a stain on the family name for me to 
get out and earn my own living, and yet she 
doesn’t mind for me to toil and wear my life 
away in her service.” 

“Perhaps I can help you but not now, for we 
must g*o in, see, a shower is coming and we must 
not get wet.” 

“Neither must I be seen with you. I think I 
shall remain awhile. I love to feel the rain 
drops and I do not fear getting wet or catching a 
cold; indeed, I rather court than fear death for it 
would be a sweet retreat to rest beneath the 
daisies with no cares, no tasks, no harsh up- 
braiding words to mar one’s peace.” 

As Irene spoke these last words her tears were 
falling faster than the pattering rain-drops 
which, unnoticed, were playing havoc with the 


IRENE CHRYSTAL HURST 


23 


pretty crimped muslin dress which Naoma wore. 

With a dash of her pretty hand Naoma swept 
the rain drops from her face and turning- to Irene 
asked: 

“What is your name fair child?” 

“I am Irene — Irene Chrystal Hurst, but no one 
ever called me “fair” before. Rejoice says I am 
as ugly as a mud-fence, and my hair is red and 
that I have the most horrid temper of any one.” 

“But your hair is not red, and you are not ug- 
ly and from what I have heard you have the best 
of tempers. Rejoice does not know what she is 
saying, and if you were dressed as Rejoice dress- 
es, and was taken itdo society, in no time hun- 
dreds of men would Worship at your shrine.” 

“Oh! do you really think so? Would I have 
lovers like Rejoice? I should want nothing bet- 
ter than a handsome beau like Mr. Bert Danley. 
Once when Rejoice had sent me to the meadow 
to gather some flowers for the table, I met Mr. 
Danley and had just raised my head to speak to 
him when a naughty, treacherous running briar 
caught my foot and I was plunged forward on 
my face. He did not laugh as some men would 
have done but instead he kindly assisted me to 
my feet and seemed really frightened until I told 
him twice that I was not hurt. He looked at me 
long and earnestly, then asked my name. Sud- 
denly I remembered my errand and said I must 
go. As I turned from him I heard him mutter,” 
“a strange likeness.” What he meant by it I do 
not know.” 

“Why Irene — I may call you Irene, may I not?” 

Irene nodded and Naoma went on. 


24 


IRENE CHRYSTAL HURST 


“You are growing- real interesting Irene, but I 
fear you will have to forego your narrative until 
a more congenial time. I am ' drenched and so 
are you, meet me here at two o’clock tomorrow 
and we will discuss plans for the future, until 
then, good-bye. ” 

Naoma sped away leaving Irene standing un- 
derneath an arbor of honeysuckle vines. 

Irene stood thinking. Could she win Bert for 
her own? If she only could — but no — Rejoice 
had told her that she and Bert were engaged. 
She did not like to see a noble man like Bert wed 
a lioness like Rejoice. 

Meanwhile, the clouds were passing, the rain 
had ceased falling and the sun just peeping 
round a huge passing cloud was giving a very ef- 
fective gold-color to Irene’s hair. 

Both vine and flowers were bedewed with 
chrystal rain-drops. Irene stooped down and ca- 
ressed the rain-covered lillies which playfully 
nodded and threw tiny spots of clear water into 
her fair face. 


THE SPRAY OF HONEYSUCKLE 


25 


CHAPTER V. 

THE SPRAY OF HONEYSUCKLE. 

Bert Danley who had been to the neighboring 
town, and was just now returning chanced to 
look in the garden when he beheld Irene stand- 
ing in a very becoming manner, holding to her 
lips a spray of honeysuckle covered with pearly 
rain drops. 

Bert reined in his black steed, Treasure, and 
stood looking at the pretty picture before him. 
The rain drops were still clinging to the flowers 
as though loathe to leave them, and the sun 
threw a pretty transparent shimmer over it all. 
But prettiest of all the flowers was Irene, as she 
stood like a royal queen in their midst. 

Bert sat for some time looking in silent adora- 
tion at the pretty picture of nature, innocence, 
and beauty all combined. He quickly then be- 
thought himself that it was rude and unmanly to 
stare in this fashion, so, lightly touching the 
sleek mane of Treasure he rode closer to the fence 
and politely doffing his hat asked: “Please may 
I be the happy recipient of that spray of honey- 
suckle? I am over fond of them.” 


26 THE SPEAY OF HONEYSUCKLE 

Irene started quickly for she had thought her- 
self alone. Looking up and seeing Bert a bright, 
happy light filled her face and carefully severing 
from the clinging vine the spray of honeysuckle 
which she held in her hand — she approached the 
fence and handed the much coveted flower to 
Bert. 

“A thousand thanks. I shall always keep this 
as a memento of you. I always have and always 
shall admire the honeysuckle.” 

“And so shall I,” answered Irene. “I suppose 
my passion for flowers, especially honeysuckle, 
is hereditary for my mother was passionately 
fond of the same.” 

The ghost of a surprise flitted over Bert’s face 
as Irene uttered these last words. His mind had 
travelled back over the grass-grown track of 
time, when he was only a boy of twelve he had 
one day, unexpectedly entered his father’s sanc- 
tum and there beheld him talking in a childish 
way to a dried, withered spray of honeysuckle. 
Bert heard him saying: “Irene, darling Irene, 
you gave me this the night you promised to be 
my bride; sweetheart, your body, your soul was 
as innocent as this very flower which I hold in 
my hand. Your father was cruel, he snatched 
you from my side; he forced you to marry that 
horrid man whom he thought was rich. But you 
are gone, Irene — gone to the land above. You 
are beyond that wretch’s ill-treatment now. 
The night you lay dead I slipped to the house, 
stole in the darkened chamber of death, pressed 
one kiss on your dear face — still more beautiful 
in death, laid one spray of honeysuckle in your 


THE SPEAY OF HONEYSUCKLE 27 

waxen hands — and — departed. Why should we 
all fear Death? It is only the sweet, deep sleep; 
the resting- of weary hearts and bodies. Ah! 
Irene I shall soon join you, I have only to pass 
through the “Gateway of Death” then I shall 
claim you as my own. I married, but not for love. 
After you were gone, I married that the estate 
might not pass into strangers hands. I have one 
son, Bert, and I have heard that you had a 
daughter named Irene. I shall do all in my pow- 
er to bring that son and daughter together for 
what we two could not enjoy, perhaps our chil- 
dren can.” 

Then the old man’s head dropped on his breast 
and he looked as though he had fallen into a 
quiet sleep. Three hours afterward a servant 
found him thus and he was — dead. The old 
man’s words had come true. His spirit had 
crossed the “Gateway of Death.” The doctors 
pronounced it heart trouble and a constant worry 
of the brain. 

Bert sat on his horse recalling all this and 
Irene wondered why his face wore such a sad ex- 
pression. 

Nothing had been said of Irene in the will that 
made Bert sole master of Danley Dell. Bert had 
come to regard it as a fancy dream of his father 
until that morning when he had met Irene in the 
meadow and her fair face had quickly recalled to 
his mind “a strange likeness” to a picture hang- 
ing in the most conspicuous place in his father’s 
sanctum. Bert’s mother, a fair, gentle lady, had 
departed this life when he was only a curly-hair- 
ed toddling boy of four. At this early age he 


28 


THE SPRAY OF HONEYSUCKLE 


remembered that his father was kind and gentle 
to his mother, but that was all. No outward 
sign of affection existed between them. Bert 
used to wonder at this, but it was all made clear 
to him now. 

Irene stood looking at Bert, wondering at his 
silence. She had turned to enter the house, 
when Bert, recalling himself, asked: 

“Shall I send you a bouquet of the honeysuckles 
that grow at the Dell? They are some different 
to these and a bouquet of each would contrast 
beautifully together.” 

“Oh! sir, I should like so much to have them, 
but Rejoice ” 

Irene quickly checked her speech and darted be- 
hind a dense growth of blushing roses, for, as 
though in answer to her spoken name — she saw 
Rejoice enter the gate at the farther end of the 
garden. 

“Good-bye Mr. Danley. Don’t think me rude 
sir, but please don’t send the flowers. If you 
were to, Rejoice would not allow me to have 
them.” 

Irene passed down the garden path trying as 
best she could to avoid Rejoice. Bert watched 
her graceful movements for a few moments 
then cantered away toward home. 

Singularly, Rejoice did not see Bert, nor did 
she encounter Irene. 


THE EAVESDROPPER 


29 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE EAVESDROPPER. 

Bert rode home slowly, many queer things 
passing through his mind. Could this be the 
Irene of whom his father had spoken? “By 
George!” he muttered, “If this be she, I shall 
want no better fate than to call her wife. But 
how I am to get at it, I don’t know. If I go to 
paying her my respects instead of Rejoice there’s 
no telling what the consequences might be. But 
perhaps all will come well in time.” And did it? 
Well, let’s see. 

Most all of my readers remember the sleet and 
snow storm that came in February, 1902. 

Those who do not live near timbered land can 
never guess what they have missed by not seeing 
a sleet storm. The giant oaks, their branches 
laden with ice and snow bowed down as 
though in submissive humbleness to the ground 
beneath, while near by a sister poplar stands 
shorn of every limb, its tall, straight 
body resembling a hoary, silent sentinel 
guarding the entrance to some citadel. Only the 


30 


THE EAVESDROPPER 


sun was needed to complete the scene. After 
several days of gloom — as though wishing to get 
a glimpse at the snow clad hills and valleys — the 
sun came forth and the scene was one of splen- 
dor. The whole landscape glittered and shone 
as though thousands of tiny, twinkling diamonds 
had been thrown broad-cast in close proximity 
over the earth’s broad surface. The brilliancy of 
it all dazzled the human eye as nothing else could 
have done. 

God sends us many a pretty flower, many 
pretty scenes, and yet we do not appreciate them 
as we should. Oh! what man, what mortal can 
compete with nature’s handiwork? None. 

It was during this sleet that Bert Danley re- 
turned from Paducah where he had been visiting 
his aunt for several months. The very day that 
he returned he called on Rejoice in the vague 
hope that he might see Irene. 

As he rode near the house he glanced in the 
garden where he had last seen her. Instead of 
the flowers that he had left a sheet of ice, snow 
and sleet reigned supreme. He saw nothing of 
Irene and slowly hesitating he rang the door bell 
and was soon in the presence of Rejoice. 

Rejoice was in a tremor of delight. “Surely,” 
she told herself, “he does care for me else he 
would not call as soon as he arrived.” Bert did not 
tarry long, a fever of unrest had seized him. He 
wanted to ask about Irene but something prompt- 
ed him not to do so. Each soft step, each swish of 
a woman’s skirt in the passage outside made his 
heart beat faster, for he expected each minute to 
see Irene enter the door. Bert did not know that 


THE EAVESDROPPER 


31 


Irene, poor child! had only the freedom of the 
kitchen and back rooms where company never 
penetrated. 

Bert left Rejoice’s presence excusing- his short 
stay as best he could. As the door closed on his 
departing- fig-ure Rejoice muttered: “Stupid and 
and dull, what has come over him? He is not 
the merry, lig-ht hearted Bert of old.” Bert left 
the house, first g-lancing about to see if Irene was 
anywhere in sig-ht. He concluded he would not 
g-o back as he had come. The road was so roug-h 
he would take a less frequented path throug-h the 
woods, that is, if the over-lapping- ice-laden 
treetops would allow his progress. 

Suddenly he paused, for there directly in the 
path he was pursuing- stood the object of his 
thoug-hts — Irene. 

“Why, Mr. Danley, you startle me! I was not 
aware that you had returned yet.” 

“I came by to-day’s train. But what are you 
doing- down here, admiring- the scenery?” 

“Yes; isn’t it beautiful? Were I an artist I 
would paint this pretty, picturesque spot. Look 
at that pretty pool yonder overhung- by those 
crag-g-y icicles, and at yonder stump, it reminds 
me of the picture of Santa Claus that I used to 
admire when a child.” 

When Bert left Rejoice’s presence, she had 
g-one to the window and watched his portly form 
until he disappeared from sig-ht. Very soon she 
saw him emerg-e from the woods in an open space 
and quickly stop. Looking- closer she saw’ a 
woman’s form also. She could not see plain 
enoug-h to discern who the lady was, so quickly 


THE EAVESDROPPER 


33 

running’ to her room she snatched an old, but 
true spy-glass from her dressing table and was 
soon back to her place of observation. 

Tremblingly she raised the glass to her eyes, 
kept it there a few searching* moments, then with 
an angry burst of temper dashed it to the floor 
saying: “It is Irene, the little minx! But I too 
shall hear their conversation!” and quickly throw- 
ing an opera shawl over her head and casting one 
furtive glance around to see that no one observed 
her in the act of playing the role of eavesdropper, 
she quickly and cautiously went toward Bert 
and Irene. 

As she drew near them her progress must be 
more slow and cautious for the crunching ice 
seemed every moment on the point of betraying 
her approaching footsteps. She was now within 
ear shot and had sunk down behind the very 
stump which Irene had indicated as Santa Claus. 

She had just reached the coveted position in 
time to hear Bert say: “Be sure and meet me 
here day after to-morrow for I have something 
very important to say to you; and by you answer- 
ing the one little word, ‘yes,’ shall make me the 
happiest man in the world” and with a gentle 
“good-bye” Bert rode away. Irene turned to- 
ward the house and passed so near Rejoice that 
she could have reached out her hand and touched 
her. Rejoice almost screamed, fearing discovery, 
for with the present fiendish plan in her head no 
one must know she overheard the conversation. 
She heard Irene softly mutter: “Something im- 
portant to say to me! I know he means to ask me 
tohnarry him. He loves me! I know it, I saw 


THE EAVESDROPPER 


33 


it in his eyes! Dear God! You are are good, You 
are kind to me. No more drudgery, no more 
harsh, commanding words, but a home of ease 
and luxury.” Irene passed on to the house still 
murmuring to herself. 


THE FORGED FETTERS 


CHAPTER VIL 

the forged letters. 

When Rejoice saw that it was safe for her to 
leave her hiding- place, she arose and went to- 
ward the house in the opposite way Irene had 
gone. Rejoice’s eyes flashed fire. 

“So, day after to-morrow! Ah! Bert Danley, 
before to-morrow’s sun sets this country shall 
know Irene Hurst no more!” All that day Re- 
joice heard Irene singing softly to herself. She 
came upon Irene sitting on a low footstool in one 
of the back rooms. She paused a moment think- 
ing even in her jealous mood, how pretty Irene 
was. She was talking to Hero, Lebon’s pet dog, 
never dreaming that she had a listener. She was 
saying: “He gave me a pet name, Mr. Bert did, 
Hero, a very pretty name, Hero. Now listen; I 
shall tell it to you. I shall tell no one but you, 
dear doggie. The name is ‘Goldie.’ There! a 
pretty name is it not, Hero? It was my hair 
that suggested that name to him, and when I 
write to him I have only to sign ‘Your Goldie,’ 


THE FORGED LETTERS 


35 


and he will know from whom it came.” 

This was all Rejoice cared to hear, and with a 
cat-like tread she left the room unnoticed by 
Irene, 

Rejoice sat up late that night, writing- and re- 
writing- and tearing- up each letter as fast as they 
were written. Finally she succeeded in getting 
tw~o written to suit her, and with a fiendish, sat- 
isfied look she retired. Early the next morning 
Rejoice rode to the station for the mail. On re- 
turning- she went to the back rooms where she 
knew she would find Irene. 

At last she succeeded in finding her busily en- 
gaged in cleaning the silverware. She approach- 
ed her smilingly saying: 

“Here is a letter for you, Irene. Whom do you 
guess it is from? I am sure I can’t think who 
sent it.” 

Irene tremblingly opened the letter and read: 
Irene — Goldie: 

Please do not think that I was in earnest 
yesterday. I really was carried away by 
your beauty at first, but of course I cannot 
wed a poor girl like you. I shall, in time, 
marry your cousin Rejoice. I wish, if you 
could, that you would go away as my con- 
science might hurt me a little should I see 
you again. Please forget me as I shall soon 
forget you. 

Bert Danley. 

Rejoice’s conscience smote her as she saw the 
pain that came into Irene’s face as she read the 
letter, but not once did she think of giving up 
her wicked design. 


36 


THE FORGED LETTERS 


“May I not see your letter Irene?” asked Re- 
joice. 

“No; oh! no! it is nothing much, but Rejoice, I 
want to go away from here. I cannot, will not, 
stay here longer. Please intercede for me with 
Aunt, she will not want me to go, but I cannot 
remain here longer!” 

“Very well, then Irene, you shall go, but 
when?” 

“To-day — to-night, as soon as possible. Oh! 
dear, I am so unhappy!” 

And Rejoice knowing the exact composition 
of the letter wisely refrained from asking any 
questions. 

After some argument Lord and Lady Voorhees 
promised to let Irene go under the condition 
that she would not claim kin with 
them. Irene was surprised at Rejoice’s kindness 
to her. She gave her several dresses which she 
had only worn once or twice. She also gave her 
money to go to St. Louis as she had expressed a 
desire to go there. Irene remembered a friend 
of her mother who lived in St. Louis, and she 
was also fortunate enough to remember the street 
and number. 

She would go to this large metropolis and 
carry out her cherished desire — become a nurse. 

She loved Bert Danley and always would, but 
she would go away and try to forget him. She 
could not stay there and see him wed another. 
He had treated her cruelly but in her innocent 
heart she forgave him. 

Irene left that night on the 11:30 train for St. 


THE FORGED LETTERS 37 

Louis. Only yesterday the world had seemed so 
fair to her, now it seemed all darkness. 

The day after Irene’s departure dawned clear 
and beautiful. Bert Danley — with a smile play- 
ing- round his handsome mouth — was just mount- 
ing his horse to keep his promise by meeting 
Irene, when his servant handed him a letter. The 
address was written in a feminine hand unfa- 
miliar to him. With a foreboding of something 
wrong he opened it and read: 

Mr. Danley: 

God only knows what it costs me to write 
this letter. I do not ask you to forgive me, for 
it is impossible, yet I pray you not to censure me 
too severely. The kind words that you spoke to 
me were the first I had heard for many years, I 
but I must tell you what I dread most. I 
am married — I am the wife of an escaped con* 
vict, whom the men of justice are now after. I 
am going away, my destiny unknown. In time 
you will forget me. Marry cousin Rejoice, she 
loves you dearly and she would make a most 
appropriate mistress of Danley Dell. Farewell, 
and I pray you not to think too hard of me. 
Please let me sign just this once, the first and 
last time, 

Your Goldie. 

Bert Danley reeled and almost fell from his 
impatient steed. Slowly dismounting he turned 
to his servant saying: “John, put my horse up; 
I will not ride this afternoon. I will take a short 
walk instead.” Where the anticipated happiness 
of an hour ago? Where the golden hued dreams 
of the future? They were gone. They had 
flown never to return again. Bert walked down 
through the Grove near his handsome home and 
seated himself on a fallen tree to think. And 


38 


THE FORGED LETTERS 


bitter were the thoughts that chased each other 
through his brain. 

Irene — Goldie, the one whom he had thought 
so pure to practice such a cruel deception upon 
him. A vague feeling possessed him that there 
had been foul play — but no — how? No one had 
known the pet name, “Goldie,” but he and Irene. 

He read the letter over again. Marry Rejoice 
indeed! No, never! he should never care for 
woman again. His heart had turned to iron and 
it should never be melted by the fiery flashes that 
escaped from feminine orbs. 

He would say nothing to Rejoice about this; 
perhaps she did not know. 

If only he had that convict husband how he 
should like to strangle him! 


SAVED FROM A WATERY GRAVE 


39 


CHAPTER VIII. 

SAVED FROM A WATERY GRAVE. 

At the wayside station that I have before 
spoken of, dwelt Edward Warden, the proprietor 
of the only hotel the place afforded. Mr. War- 
den had one daughter, Flossie May, a cheerful 
blue-eyed, high-spirited girl of eighteen. 

She was not pretty, her only beauty was her 
curling brown chestnut hair, an abundance of 
which she was blessed with. Alberta Trace, of 
Louisville, Ky., was visiting Flossie May. They 
had met Naoma and Rejoice at a ball given by 
Lady Anders, at her pretty home, Sunset Hall. 
After that Naoma and Rejoice, while out riding, 
had called on Flossie May and Alberta. The 
Wardens were not so rich but they ranked in the 
highest grade of society. 

To-day a merry party had gathered at the ho- 
tel preparatory to a journey of some twenty 
miles to Green River, where the remainder of the 
day would be spent in fishing and the return 


40 SAVED FROM A WATERY GRAVE 

would be made by the moonlight as that glorious 
light would shine her brightest, if not obscured 
by clouds, and the day was fair and bid good to 
be followed by a fair night. 

Mr. Jones and his wife — who were old resident- 
ers of the wayside station — went as chaperone to 
the girls. 

Those two venerable people, Rejoice Voorhees, 
Naoma Bruco, Alberta Trace and Flossie May 
composed the group of expectant fishers. 

As Mr. Jones drove the wagon round from the 
barn-yard, a look of utter disgust came over Re- 
joice’s features, and turning to Naoma she mut- 
tered in an undertone: “My goodness! are we go- 
ing in that jolty, hayseed contraption? Suppose 
some of my fashionable set should see me in that 
concern? I thought we were to go in a carriage 
or I should never, never consented to have gone.” 

“But Rejoice,” pleaded Naoma, “you must go 
now, you cannot miss such a treat as this, and I 
am sure you will see none of your “fashionable 
set,” as you term it, on the grassy banks of 
Green river. As for myself I am tired of car- 
riages and shall really enjoy the hayride.” 

Rejoice being half assured by Naoma’s words, 
allowed herself to be reluctantly assisted into the 
wagon. 

They were all soon seated comfortably in the 
wagon aud away they merrily rolled enroute for 
Green river. 

As the wagon rolled merrily along, the girls 
became gay and talkative, catching each other 
up on jokes. Flossie May had been silent for 
some time when raising her head, and shaking 


SAVED FROM A WATERY GRAVE 


41 


the abundant locks of chestnut brown she said — 
“Girls, I’ll give either of you the first fish I 
catch if you will solve this very simple problem 
which I am going to tell.” 

“The fish is mine! the fish is mine!” cried the 
girls in a loud chorus. 

“Silence!” commanded Flossie May. They all 
obeyed. 

“Now listen! I shan’t tell it but once. Once 
upon a time a man invented a wooden clock, and 
he also invented a wooden man with a mallet in 
his hand, and each time the wooden man heard 
the clock strike one, he would strike two with 
the mallet, how many did he strike in twenty-four 
hours?” 

Each girl’s face was a study, and Mr. Jones 
turned his broad good-humored face toward Flos- 
sie May saying: “May I not be in this game, too?” 

With a smile she could not repress she answer- 
ed: “Oh! certainly.” 

“Here wife, take the lines; Hold, girls, you 
have the start of me, but ha! I have the advan- 
tage, for I’ll count it upon my watch face. Now 
for the fish! the best counter wins!” 

Alberta who was very quick at multiplying 
answered — 156 times, the fish is mine!” 

“Hold!” cried Naoma, “152 strokes.” 

“200 times,” cried Rejoice, with an air of one 
who has won a victory. 

Then Mr. Jones turning his ruddy face wreath- 
ed in smiles answered — “150 times or my watch 
face has failed.” They all glanced at Flossie 
May who had fallen in the wagon in a fit of 
laughter. Peal after peal of her merry laughter 


42 


SAVED FROM A WATERY GRAVE 


rang* out, and they all sat amazed, seeing- noth- 
ing to laugh at. 

Finally, Alberta shook her saying — “Flossie 
May do hush and tell which of us have won the 
fish!” 

“None of you,” answered Flossie May, dry- 
ing her eyes with the corner of her handkerchief. 

“I said each time the wooden man “heard” the 
clock strike. Girls, Mr. Jones, a wooden man 
can’t hear!” 

And with another fit of laughing, she sank 
down on the hay and was soundly pounded in 
turn by each of the girls. 

“Bad luck to your fishing, Flossie May, I hope 
you won’t catch one,” murmured the girls simul- 
taneously. After several hours drive, Green 
river was reached at last, and they all sprang out, 
each one anxious to catch the first fish. 

Contrary to the party’s wish, Flossie May was 
the first to sling a fine cat on dry land. 

“My! how glad I am that neither of you solved 
my puzzle for I don’t see how I could part with 
this, my first fish. Do not despair girls. You 
are not the first that I ever ‘caught’ on that 
problem. One of my best school teachers and a 
gentleman friend of mine, I served the same way. 
Ask Mr. George Vane if a ‘wooden man can 
hear’ and see what his answer will be.” 

The girls — for a wonder — were silent for some 
time and presently each one was rewarded by 
catching a fish. Soon they grew tired, and went 
higher up on the river bank and seated them- 
selves to rest, gaily chatting the while. Alberta 


SAVED FROM A WATERY GRAVE 


43 


was a great talker and for some time kept the 
girls laughing with her quick wit and repartee. 

Flossie May sat in silence for some time then 
looking with a sober face and feigning excite- 
ment said: “Oh! girls, I have just now discov- 
ered perpetual motion!” 

“Oh! what is it?” shrieked the girls in one 
voice. 

“Alberta’s tongue!” answered Flossie May and 
away she sped up the river with Alberta in close 
pursuit. The girls followed in their wake shout- 
ing: 

“Catch her Alberta, and we will throw her in 
the river!” Of course, this jesting threat increas- 
ed the rapidity of Flossie May, and with a deer- 
like, agile leap, she gained the summit of a rock 
underneath a spreading maple tree. Alberta 
was baffled, and sat down upon the grass to rest, 
for she could not reach Flossie May who stood 
laughingly on her rocky pedestal and making a 
comic bow and sweeping gesture she sagely re- 
peated: 

“Heights by women reached and kept, 

Were not attained by sudden flight; 

But they, while their companions fished, 

Were toiling upward to the height.” 

“Come down from there, Flossie May, and let’s 
go back to our fishing,” and the girls went back 
to the spot where they had left their hooks and 
lines. 

Flossie May was on the point of descending 
from her lofty position when glancing up in the 
tree, she beheld some fine, luscious grapes pen- 
dant from a limb that extended a little over the 


44 SAVED FROM A WATERY GRAVE 

edge of the river bank. She sprang down from 
the rock, thinking from the other side she could 
reach the grapes; but she was not quite tall 
enough, she would call some of the girls, perhaps 
they could reach them. Stepping round from the 
rock so she was in view of the girls she shouted 
— “Girls come here, quick! here are some fine 
grapes come and help me get them.” 

Alberta answered — “No Flossie May, you 
shan’t fool us this time; girls don’t go she is try- 
ing to ‘catch’ us again.” 

“No! no! girls, I will declare there are grapes 
here, come, now if there is not, you may duck me 
in the river.” 

“Good enough!” answered Alberta, “come 
girls,” and away they ran to where Flossie May 
stood. 

“But how are we to get them?” said Flossie 
May, as she tried in vain to regain her position 
on the rock. For her life, she could not get up 
again. 

Rejoice had gone round on the other side of 
the rock, and before any of them knew it, she 
was half way out on the swaying limb that held 
the grapes. 

Naoma had sat for some time in silence with 
her face turned from the rippling waves of the 
river. Her mind had travelled back to that 
moonlight night on the waters of the Pacific. 
She had enjoyed this fishing expedition more 
than she had anything, since that fatal night. 
She was brought out of her reverie by hearing 
Alberta say — “Mind, Rejoice, that limb is weak!” 


SAVED FROM A WATERY GRAVE 45 

and looking- up she saw the limb was almost in 
the act of breaking-. 

Rejoice stepped back a few paces to peep out 
from beneath the foliage at the steamboat, Mary 
Lacy, which was gliding up the river. The 
boat glided up; the captain saluted, the boat 
passed on- -leaving in its wake myriads of little 
waves. Rejoice again stepped boldly and care- 
lessly out on the limb. 

Springing up with alarm Naoma cried warn- 
inglv: “Take care, Rejoice, that limb is weak; 
it will break and you’li be thrown into the river!” 

“Mind your own business, Naoma. Because 
you have accomplished nothing in life, you need 
not think I never shall. One more step and the 
grapes are mine!” 

Ah! reckless Rejoice, in a very short time you 
and the world will know what gentle Naoma can 
accomplish! 

“Back! Rejoice, back! the limb is breaking!” 
came from trembling Alberta, but too late the 
warning. 

Crack! the brittle maple limb broke and with 
a mighty sling sent Rejoice Voorhees whirling 
into the depths of Green River! 

The rippling waters closed in upon her as 
though proud of their beautiful treasure, and 
down, down she sank, with an agonizing cry of 
“help!” The girls huddled together screaming 
for Mr. Jones. All but Naoma. She had darted 
several paces back from the river, raising her 
white arms above her crown of golden hair, her 
beautiful eyes raised toward heaven, her pale lips 
moving as though in prayer, she sped with a 


46 SAVED FROM A WATERY GRAVE 

swift rush toward the river. She paused mo- 
mentarily on the bank, then her graceful^ form 
darted high in the air. She seemed to pause a 
moment in her arrow-like flight then with a 
swift, downward movement she parted the waters 
with her shapely arms and — disappeared. The 
girls screamed in vain for Mr. Jones who was 
some distance down the river from them. They 
were paralyzed with fear, thinking- Naoma and 
Rejoice were both drowned. After a few mo- 
ments, which seemed ages to the girls, Naoma's 
golden head appeared above the surface of the 
water while she held closely pressed the limp 
form of Rejoice. With several powerful strokes 
of her right arm Naoma gained the bank, holding 
in her left the recumbent form of Rejoice. 

When she had reached dry land her nerves gave 
way and she sank with her burden to the ground. 

The sunlight gold of Naoma’s hair was mingled 
with the midnight darkness of Rejoice’s tresses, 
and a pretty contrast they made in their drench- 
ed, dejected position. 

The girls saw that something must be done. 
Flossie May hastened after Mr. Jones and his 
wife, while Alberta succeeded in arousing 
Naoma who had only fainted. But Rejoice was 
in a very serious condition. The fright, togeth- 
er with the cold, unexpected dip in the water 
were too much for her sensitive nerves. This 
broke up the fishing, and they all started for 
home. 


THE CONFESSION 


47 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE CONFESSION. 

The day after Rejoice had gotten back from 
Green river she was taken suddenly ill. Long 
she lay, fighting a battle between life and death. 
She wondered what had become of Bert Danley, 
he had been gone for several months and she had 
not heard from him. Rejoice had wasted away 
until she was only a shadow of her former self. 
Seven long weeks she had fluttered between life 
and death and at last the learned doctors said she 
must die. It was the nurse who told Rejoice 
this. With a startled look she said: “I cannot! 
Oh! I cannot go with my burden of sins untold.” 
She muttered some unintelligible words to her- 
self, then the nurse heard her say: 

“The wages of sin is death,” 

Then her reason seemed dethroned, and delir- 
ium seized her and she wildly murmured: 

“Irene, Oh! Irene, please forgive! Fiend! 
Away with those letters! Leave my presence 
you fiery-eyed monster!” 

She went on in the clutch of delirium for some 
time, then fell into a troubled sleep which lasted 
for several hours. When she awoke she asked 
the nurse to send her mother to her. 


48 


THE CONFESSION 


Lady Voorhees came to her at once, her pale 
face and troubled eyes showing- too plainly the 
anxiety she was going through in the illness of 
her pretty daughter. 

“Mamma, I want to see Bert Danley before I 
die. I cannot, must not die without an interview 
with him.” 

“But darling, Bert is away and I do not know 
where to send for him,” but the nurse quickly 
said: “I heard Lord Voorhees say that he return- 
ed this morning.” 

“Then I shall send for him at once,” and Lady 
Voorhees left the room and sent a message for 
handsome Bert to come immediately. 

When Bert received the message he opened it 
and read: 

Please come at once. Rejoice is dying and 
wishes to see you. 

Yours in great sorrow, 

Lady Voorhees. 

With swiftest activity Bert was soon flying 
toward the Forest House. His habitual swift 
steed seemed hardly going at all. In his heart 
something seemed to tell him that he was going 
to be happy, but with a keen sense of shame he 
put the thought from him, asking himself, what 
happiness could the death of Rejoice bring him? 
He at last reached the house wherein lay Rejoice 
anxiously awaiting him. He was at once shown 
up to her room and left alone with her. 

“I knew you would come, Bert. I knew you 
you would not refuse a dying girl’s request. But 
what I have to say, I must say at once. I have a 


THE CONFESSION 


49 


confession to make you, a shameful, sinful con- 
fession.” 

“A confession? Speak quick, tell me what it 
is.” 

“Bert! Bert! Do not look at me like that, it was 
my passionate love for you that caused me to do 
as I did. But my confession — my strength is 
failing. Bert, you received a letter from Irene, 
did you not? A letter that said she was mar- 
ried? That — was — false, I wrote the letter my- 
self. Irene is a pure, innocent girl, but I saw 
she was usurping my place in your heart. I 
overheard your conversation that morning long 
ago when you told Irene to meet you, and 
I knew you would — if not prevented — ask her to 
be your wife. I loved you too well to not do 
something desperate to retain your affections. 
Sin was nothing to me, weighed in the balance 
with love. Were it to do over again, I would do 
the same. I heard Irene talking to Hero, telling 
him the pet name you had given her, never 
dreaming that I was near. I wrote Irene a note, 
with your name signed, saying you were tired of 
her—” 

“Coward! Traitoress!” hissed Bert Danley, 
“You cruel, cruel woman.” Then softly — “Irene, 
oh! Irene, my poor lost darling!” Sternly — “Tell 
me, Rejoice, where is she?” 

“She is in St. Louis, her street and number I 
do not know; Bert, oh! Bert, please forgive me, 
and Bert, kiss me just once; dear — ” 

“Kiss you? Never! Kiss the woman who has 
wrecked my life and perhaps slain the fair girl 
whom I loved better than anything on earth? 


50 


THE CONFESSION 


Farewell, fair, sinful woman; may I never see 
you more!’’ 

He rushed from the house; heedless of the faint 
calls from pale Rejoice. Bert had but one 
thought, Irene was in St. Louis and thither he 
must go at once. She was not married; she was 
free to love him. With lightning-like speed 
Bert was soon at the wayside station, nor, was 
heanytoo soon, for as his feet gained the plat- 
form, train No. 121 pulled up. 

Quickly giving orders to a neighbor boy to 
take Treasure to Danley Dell, Bert sprang* on 
board and the train with its load of human 
freig-ht, steamed slowly out of the station. It 
seemed to Bert that the train was hardly moving* 
at all. 


POUND 


51 


CHAPTER X. 

FOUND. 

After some delays Bert at last reached his des- 
tination. Not until he landed in that large city, 
did he think where to look for Irene. He did not 
know her street and number and he might as 
well look for the proverbial needle in a hay stack, 
as this fair girl whose whereabouts were un- 
known to him. He rushed madly after every lady 
who bore the slightest resemblance to Irene, and 
thrice was arrestment threatened him. Bert was 
up each morning as the sun lifted its smiling face 
above the horizon, nor did he cease his tireless 
search until the same sun adorned the west with 
its rays of amber gold, finally giving way to the 
gentle moon. Each nook, each place where he 
thought Irene could be, he searched untiringly, 
but in vain. Bert had been in St. Louis for two 
months and yet no trace of Irene had he found. 
He was in despair. He would start on his return 
that night, and yet he was loathe to leave the 
great city which held his darling, either living 
or dead. She surely was dead; no trace, not the 
faintest clue to her whereabouts could be found. 


52 


FOUND 


He had employed several detectives but— as } r et 
— none had been successful. 

He gave up the search in despair. He had 
advertised, but no one had responded. Bert went 
to the park and seated himself on a comfortable 
bench to think. He wondered if Rejoice was 
dead; what a cruel, hardhearted girl she was to 
treat Irene as she did. A.s for himself, he was 
strong enough to bear it, but Irene — his heart 
bled for her as he thought of the pain she must 
suffer. 

When Bert had visited his aunt in Paducah he 
had an object in view. In a careless way he 
asked his aunt all about the picture hanging in 
his father’s sanctum. “Which picture, Bert, the 
fair girl with the golden hair in the polished 
brass frame?’’ 

“Yes; auntie, the same, who is she?” 

“That was your father’s first — and I believe— 
only love. Her maiden name was Irene Chrystal, 
and her father compelled her to marry a man by 
the name of Hurst, whom he thought was rich. 
The man proved to be poor, and not only that, 
but a rascal, a villain of the deepest dye. Irene 
had one daughter. She did not live many years 
after marriage. Poor child! She loved my 
brother — your father — and he loved her too.” 

Bert was thinking over the conversation with 
his aunt as he sat in the park so lonely and dis- 
heartened. Now he was thinking of Naoma. 
What mad freak ever possessed him to ask her to 
be his wife? True, she was pretty, charming, 
and all like that, but what must she think of him? 
He was glad she refused him, for he had met 


FOUND 


53 

and loved Irene, his ideal of woman. Yes; met, 
loved and lost her. He looked at his watch and 
saw that it was growing- late in the afternoon. 
The curfew from a belfry tower was ringing- in 
silvery chimes the evening- hour and with a sor- 
rowful look Bert started for his hotel, resolving 
to leave that nig-ht for Danley Hell. 

A strang-e sensation had come over him, and 
his feet, as if propelled by some unseen ag-ency, 
had wended their way wearily to the city hos- 
pital. 

Bert looked up surprised. “What broug-ht me 
here? I’ve g-one a block out of my way, and yet, 
some mag-netism seemed to push me along-. I 
have heard of hypnotism, mesmerism, and etc.* 
but this beats all!” 

He was on the point of turning- away when 
something- seemed to whisper “Go in! Go in!’* 

Slowly he mounted the steps and entered the 
g-reat building- wherein lay the sick, dying and 
dead. 

Bert paused beside the couch of a boy of some 
seventeen years. As he was approaching the 
bed a nurse turned from the boy and passed down 
the long room. 

Bert watched her movements for a few mo- 
ments, then a wild thought leaped to his heart. 
How strangely familiar that petit slender figure! 
She wore the nurse’s garb and how becoming- it 
was! Underneath the cap that set so jauntily 
on the pretty head, were coils of golden braided 
hair. Stepping to the bedside of the boy he 
asked: 

“Who is the lady who just now left you?” 


54 


FOUND 


The boy eyed him critically for a few minutes, 
then answered: 

“Her real, full name I do not know. She came 
here about one year ago and has remained ever 
since. Each one in the house adores her, and 
even the dogs and cats love her. Her hand is 
always cooling to the fevered brow, and her 
words soothing to the troubled, storm-tossed 
soul. Rumor has it that the head physician of 
the hospital proposed to her and she refused him. 
I imagine she has loved someone in time and has 
been disappointed for her face is always sad but 
sweet.” 

“But her name,” persisted Bert, “tell me her 
name.” 

“The only name she has ever given is ‘Goldie 7 
Yonder she is, coming this way.” 

Bert started at the name, Goldie, as though a 
red-hot iron had been thrust into his palm, and 
wheeling, he faced the approaching nurse. 

Yes, it was Irene, his darling Irene, and lo! 
she held to her lips a spray of honeysuckle! A 
shade of sadness was in her pretty eyes; perhaps 
she was thinking of that morning long ago, 
when she had given Bert a rain-covered spray of 
the same. 

Regardless of the boy, Bert sprang* forward. 

“Irene! Goldie! My love — my long lost dar- 
ling — have I found you at last?” He was on the 
point of clasping her to his breast but she coldly 
stepped back, saying: 

“Mr. Danley, what means this outrage? I 
came away as your letter directed — to forget; and 


found 


j>5 


110W why do you pursue me to tantalize me by try- 
ing- to make love to me?” 

“Oh! Irene, believe me, I did not write that 
letter; it was Rejoice who sent that cruel note, 
and she also sent one to me with your name 
signed, saying* you were married — ” 

Irene looked horror-stricken at this. How 
could Rejoice be so cruel? A.11 the pent up love 
that Irene had for Bert, now leaped to her face. 
She tried hard to hide it, but in vain. Bert was 
still true to her, still loved her as no one else had 
ever done. Then she tremblingly said: 

“And Rejoice did this cruel, shameful deed? 
May God deal with her as she has dealt—” 

“Nay, Irene do not reproach, do not up-braid 
her, for I left her dying when I came in search 
of you.” 

“Rejoice dying— dead!” The beautiful, 
haughty, spoiled Rejoice, whose dark beauty 
rivaled any in the land. 

Bert pleadingly said: “Irene, you believe me, 
do you not? And you will marry me, Irene, and 
we shall be happy despite the cruel wrong done 
Us* both. Come to the harbor of my open arms, 
Irene, and let us float down the stream of life 
together; down the stream that Fate and Destiny 
have pointed out for us both to traverse.” 

With a shy, glad happiness she rushed into his 
arms and was clasped to his manly breast. 

Bert and Irene left the hospital together. 
Physician, nurse and patient were loathe to see 
her go, for they all loved her, but she promised 
to visit them as soon as she could do so, conven- 


FOUNT* 


r>6 

iently, for she could never forget those who had 
been so kind to her in her hour of greatest need. 

That very night Bert and Irene were united 
at the home of Irene’s friend. After the cer- 
emony was over, they left at once for Danley 
Dell. 


PEACE 


57 


CHAPTER XI. 


PEACE. 

On reaching- their destination Bert and Irene 
found, to their surprise, that Rejoice was not 
dead but convalescing-. Bert’s return with his 
lovely bride was a nine days wonder, but they 
soon ceased wondering- and began to love Irene 
for her loving, gentle ways. 

When pale, weak Rejoice heard of the home- 
coming of Bert and his bride, she at once sent 
for them. 

Rejoice had been so near the grave that all her 
former self had changed. Instead of the olden 
reckless Rejoice she had changed into a gentle, 
loving woman. 

Her worldliness, her vanity had flown and 
given place to better qualities. She had told 
herself, if God let her live, her life should be 
vastly different to what the past had been. She 
had sinned, and instead of victory had tasted the 
wines of bitter remorse. Why do we sin? Why 
commit crimes that we hide from our fellowmen? 
If we are not seen by mortal man the Divine 
Power above sees us. And do we not realize the 
truth in that ancient axiom — “Murder will out?” 


58 


PEACE 


Irene and Bert, one fair May morning, rode 
over to the Forest House. Lady Voorhees greet- 
ed them kindly for she was happy in the restora- 
tion of her child’s life. And Rejoice? she clung 
around Irene’s neck, while one hand was extend- 
ed to Bert. Sobbing, she begged them to for* 
give her. They quickly soothed her, saying they 
bore her no malice; that they were willing the 
past should be forgotten. Rejoice begged so 
hard that Irene should not leave her that she and 
Bert promised to remain for a few days at the 
Forest House. Irene, being a skilled nurse soon 
had Rejoice so she could leave her room. 

Naoma had gone to spend a few days with 
Flossie May Warden, and on returning she was 
much surprised to find Bert and Irene there, and 
on intimate terms with the whole family. And 
she was surprised to see the peaceful, contented 
look on Rejoice’s face which she had not seen 
there for sometime. Before, her face had worn 
a strained haunted look, and she seemed to start 
at every sound. Naoma was not aware of what 
had transpired, and when she was alone in her 
room, Irene came to her and told her all. Na- 
oma was much surprised, but in her heart she 
was secretly glad of the turn affairs had taken. 
After they had conversed for some time, they 
went down to the drawing room where the fami- 
ly was gathered. During the time Irene had 
been away from the Forest House, she had culti- 
vated her talent for music and she could now 
play the piano well. Bert, knowing this, asked 
her to play, and with pride led her to the piano. 
After filling the room with sweet melodious 


PEACE 


59 


music she was asked to sing". Without hesita- 
tion, her clear, sweet voice rang- out: 

“Oh! cruel waves of the deep blue sea, 

Send back my bonny boy to me.” 

Naoma waited to hear no more. Already 
her heart was bursting. The cruel waves had 
taken from her all that she held dear in life. If 
only she could be happy like Bert and Irene. If 
only the waves would send back her lover, how 
happy she should be! But God had taken him 
away, and His will be done in all things. She 
must not rebel against the will of God. It would 
be more noble in her to bear her sorrows bravely. 
She would live on and serve God as best she 
could, and when she died she would ask one boon 
of them. She would ask to be buried as DeSoto 
was, he was buried in the Mississippi — she would 
ask to be buried in the Pacific. She would ask 
them to take her to the spot where Eugene was 
drowned and drop her quietly in the mighty Pa- 
cific; then the waves that swept over Eugene 
would also sweep over her unconscious form. 
She knew they never would consent to have her 
buried thus, but she meant to ask it of them. 
She thought of Eugene lying fathoms deep in 
the dark Pacific waters. Again her mind revert- 
ed to Rejoice. She had changed, as it were, 
from a shrill, angry eagle to a harmless, cooing 
dove. 

Naoma knew that Rejoice had madly loved 
Bert, but her stormy, rebellious love had now 
ceased, and instead, a calm, holy friendship 
reigned. 


PEACE 


60 

Naoma had scores of admirers, but she encour- 
aged none. Both Robert Dawson and Vic Dan- 
ley had asked her hand in marriage and both had 
received a like fate. She did not laugh their 
love to scorn, but quietly and gently told them 
that they could be nothing more than mere 
friends. 

* *#**### 

Bert and Irene had gone back to their home 
at Danley Dell. Rejoice had recovered her health 
sufficiently enough to travel and she and Naotna 
were soon to start to some watering place where 
they would remain for several months. Several 
weeks were spent in getting ready for the jour- 
ney. Naoma was glad to go. She thought per- 
haps new scenes and different clime would help 
her care-worn spirits. The day of their depart- 
ure came at last. The fast trains did not stop at 
the wayside station so after a few hours drive, 
they were at Leitchfield, boarding the train for 
their destination. They were going to New 
York, near the shores of Lake Champlain. At 
last their journey was ended, and they were both 
delighted with the place. The Adirondacks 
reared their lofty peaks as though in bold de- 
fiance to the surrounding country. Along the 
roads and scattered over the mountains, were 
beautiful pine trees, throwing out their green 
branches in welcome to travellers who -were wont 
to pass them by. Near the New York shore of 
Lake Champlain a large hotel was erected. The 
surroundings were beautiful. Pines surrounded 
the grounds in stately, soldier!}' lines, while here 


PEACE 


61 


and there a tiny fountain sent up its silvered 
spray. The hotel bore the name of “The Pines” 
and a very appropriate name it was. 

Naoma and Rejoice, since the latter’s illness, 
had become firm friends. They were both de- 
lighted with the place they had chosen and ere 
long the roses began to bloom in their cheeks 
and their eyes grew brighter, day by day, as 
though trying to rival each other in radiance. 

Many fashionable people visited the Pines arid 
ere Rejoice and Naoma had been there a fort- 
night many were the cards and invitations they 
received. But they declined them all at the 
present for Rejoice said she wanted some rest be- 
fore she entered the gay world again. 


62 


CELESTE HARM OK 


CHAPTER XIL 

CELESTE HARMON* 

In a stately mansion in Buffalo, New York, 
dwelt one of the said state’s most beautiful 
daughters— Celeste Harmon. She was of a tall, 
willowy form, with curling locks of amber gold, 
and eyes that rivalled the violets in their blue- 
ness* She was of a sunny temper, and each day 
found her the same. Half of Buffalo was already 
at her feet and she was loved by all. 

It was a June morning and she was standing 
at the cool library window. She looked pretty 
this morning; perhaps she had dressed with more 
cate as she was expecting rich, handsome Garnet 
Alden to call this morning. A shade of both 
happiness and annoyance mingled together on 
her fair brow. She had a very unpleasant task 
before her. Her cousin, Eugene Errington, was 
to call early before Mr. Alden came. She had 
been engaged to Eugene Errington for some 
time; it had been a family arrangement for many 


CELESTE HARMON 


63 


years gone. Celeste had loved Eugene, but not 
with a love she should lavish upon her husband, 
and she knew she loved Garnet Alden. This 
morning she had sent for Eugene to ask him to 
free her from the bond of her engagement. 

She knew it would not pain Eugene much, for 
he did not seem to care for her as he used to. At 
times he seemed sad and depressed. Celeste 
thought perhaps he had met and loved someone 
else, but she did know for certain. 

Ah! we know, don’t we reader? 

She wondered how she was to begin the con- 
versation. She feared he might be angry, and 
she wanted no hard feelings to exist between 
them. 

She looked up and saw Eugene coming up the 
stone walk and very soon he was in her presence. 

Glancing at him, she noticed that his face 
wore a grave, determined look. They were soon 
conversing, and Celeste — now that she was about 
to lose him — noticed how very handsome Eugene 
was. He was portly, strongly built, and a pair 
of the prettiest of frank blue eyes were his to 
claim. 

His hair was dark brown and a silky mustache 
of the same adorned his proudly-curved upper lip. 
His broad intellectual brow was shaded by a 
saucy curl or two that lay caressingly on his 
forehead. 

Ah! fair Naoma; no wonder your heart went 
out to him. 

Eugene, in the midst of his conversation with 
Celeste, paused and with a sad look in his eyes 
asked: 


04 


CELESTE HARMON 


‘ ‘Celeste, did I ever tell you of my trip home?” 

“No, Eugene. I have several times asked you, 
but you did not seem to care to discuss the sub- 
ject, and so I said no more.” 

“Well, if you will be kind enough to listen to 
me, I will tell you. I have told no one but sister 
Annetta.” 

“Tell me at once; I am anxious to hear your 
story.” 

“Very well, I shall now proceed.” 

“When I came across the Pacific, I took pas- 
sage on the steamer Silverwave, and there I met 
a young girl. It is useless for me to try to ex- 
plain her beauty in my own vocabulary, for I 
could not give her justice. Her name was Naoma 
Amelia Bruco. I have seen many women, but 
none of them equalled her in beauty and grace. 
The first time I saw her she was standing on 
deck, looking at the waves. Her hair of bright- 
est gold — but I shan’t describe her further, but 
here is the whole story in a nut shell, I fell deep- 
ly, passionately in love with her!” 

Celeste opened her eyes to their widest and 
said: “Oh! do not pause; tell me how it ended, 
or, rather, how it will end.” 

“It has already ended, Celeste; but prepare 
yourself for a shock, for now the worst of my 
story comes,” 

“Not long after Miss Bruco and I had become 
acquainted, a storm arose on the ocean. She and 
I were on deck and I had gone to the farther end 
of the steamer to get a life-preserver for her, 
when I saw a giant wave coming which I knew 
would sweep all on deck. I saw that I could not 


CELESTE HARMON 


65 


reach Miss Bruco and I cried for her to run for 
her life. She did not move. She stood with her 
hands outstretched toward me and her eyes raised 
appealingly toward heaven. I was thinking 
what a pretty picture she made, and before I 
knew it I was lifted by a mighty wave and dash- 
ed overboard! Some way — how, I never knew — 
I fastened the life preserver about me and looked 
about to see if Miss Bruco was anywhere near 
me, but I could not see her, and the great ship 
was one hundred yards ahead of me. I cried 
wildly for help, but my own voice sounded like a 
mockery above the wild roar of the angry waters. 
I had given up in despair when I saw a long 
object riding the waves near me. You know the 
saying: “a drowning man will grasp at a straw,” 
and I know by experience that it is true. Nearer 
and nearer the object came until it was within 
my reach, and with superhuman strength I 
grasped it, and found it to be a huge piece of 
timber which had been washed from the deck of 
the Silverwave. Hope rose a little in my heart 
as over the waves we glided, the timber and I.” 


GG 


CAST UP BY THE WAVES 


CHAPTER XIII. 

CAST UP BY THE WAVES. 

“Oh! Eug-ene, that was horrible! And you 
never told me this before.” 

“Hush! Celeste; do not interrupt me. Where 
was I? 0, yes — Sometimes I was above the sur- 
face of the water, sometimes underneath. But I 
was determined to hold to that piece of timber, 
come what may. With joy I noted that the storm 
was abating-. Dashing- the salt spray from my 
eyes I looked before me and saw a hug-e ship — 
but just then the timber wished me to ride head 
downward awhile, and with a flop I was under 
the water tasting- the salt of the briny deep. 
When a boy, I had often wished for a bath in the 
ocean; now my wish was being- gratified. 

It seemed ag-es to me before the timber with a 
turn, took a notion that my heels had been in air 
long- enoug-h, and with a jerk my head was once 
more above water. I saw I was making- straig-ht 
for the steamer and perhaps would be dashed to 
pieces ag-ainst its broad side. As soon as I had 
dashed some of the salt water from my eyes, 


CAST TJ? BY THE WAVES 


67 


mouth and nostrils I set up a terrific yell for 
help. If they did not hear me, and I should pass 
them, nothing- but death awaited for me. Borne 
on by the swift current, I Was being- swept near 
and nearer my final doom or rescue, I yelled 
ag-ain and again at the top of my voice as nearer 
the vessel I was borne. Finally I was rewarded 
by seeing lanterns flash along the side of the 
steamer.' Over the roar of the waters I shouted, 
‘throw me a rope!’ and soon in the dim light I 
saw a large cable lowered to the water’s surface, 
and just as the forward end of the timber grated 
with a menacing sound against the side of the 
steamer, I grasped the dangling cable, and the 
timber- -freed of its burden — swerved around 
with an ominous crash alongside the vessel. The 
men of the steamer hauled me on board and I 
was oblivious to all around me. When conscious- 
ness returned to me, I found myself in good 
hands and on board the Sunflower. For all of 
its oddness it might have been a sister boat to 
Mayflower which landed the Pilgrims in Mas- 
sachusetts in 1620. It was antique, neat and a 
good travelling vessel. The whole steamer was 
a masterpiece of ancient work. As good luck 
would have it, this steamer was bound for San 
Francisco. Before we reached there, many were 
the sad hours I spent in thinking of Miss Bruco. 
I know she was drowned for no boat could live in 
such a storm, and I know the captain did not 
send any boat after us, for he knew it would be 
useless. 

After I arrived in San Francisco I painted Miss 
Bruco’s picture as she stood on deck the first time 


68 


CAST U? BV TBE WAVES 


I saw her. All is perfect except the expression 
of the eyes, and that I could not paint from mem- 
ory. Celeste, I love her, though she is dead. I 
shall love no one else as I did her.” 

“You love her better than me, your promised 
wife?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then, Eugene, suppose in the years that have 
gone, suppose — that I have learned to love some 
one better — than — you?” 

“Why, Celeste, if you love someone better than 
me, marry that ‘someone’ and be happy.” 

“Eugene! you really mean it? And you won’t 
be angry?” 

“Angry? No, indeed! I want nothing better 
than to see you happy.” 

“Thank you, Eugene. I love you but not with 
a love that I should give my husband. Here is 
the ring you gave me. Now, please don’t be 
angry with me for I think it the best, and I feel 
that in time you will find someone more worthy 
of your love than I.” 

“No, Celeste, none. I think I shall live a 
bachelor’s life henceforth.” 

“By the way, Eugene, you spoke of painting 
Miss Bruco’s picture. May I not see it?” 

“Not unless you go to Kentucky, for I sent it 
to Sister Annetta.” 

Celeste opened her mouth to reply when she 
saw Garnet Alden approaching. 

“Yonder is Mr. Alden. He is coming to call 
on me.” 

“That signifies that I must go, does it not?” 
said Eugene laughingly. “Good bye, Cousin 


CAST UP BY THE WAVES 


69 


Celeste. I am going* for a few days trip to Lake 
Champlain, as a friend of mine has invited me 
there; from thence I shall go to Kentucky. I 
must go now. I hear Alden’s footsteps. Kiss 
me once, Cousin, the last time perhaps.” She 
raised her rosy mouth saying: “And you are not 
angry?” 

“No, indeed! Good bye,” and Eugene vanish- 
ed through one door as Garnet Alden entered an- 
other. 

As Eugene left the house he stepped lighter 
than he had for months. He was free now! He 
had not wished to marry Celeste, but not for 
worlds would he have broken the engagement on 
his own accord. Oh! if only Naoma had lived! 

He went at once to his hotel to prepare for his 
journey and here will we leave him for awhile. 


70 


HAROLD VERE 


CHAPTER XIV. 

HAROLD VERE. 

Now go with me, kind reader, to the shores of 
Lake Champlain. Let us precede Eugene Er- 
rington and prepare for his coming. Here at the 
Pines we last left Naoma and Rejoice. 

Up a broad flight of stairs we go, unseen, un- 
heard. Seated in a pretty boudoir, whose long 
French windows reflect the setting sun, are 
Naoma and Rejoice. The former is a vision of 
loveliness. Ringlets of shimmering gold are 
drawn carelessly away from her pretty, blue- 
veined brow, while a creamy dress of flimsy mulle 
envelopes her pretty form. She is seated on a 
low footstool at Rejoice’s feet. Now pardon us, 
world, for acting the offensive role of eavesdrop- 
per, but we must hear their conversation. Re- 
joice is saying: 

“Noama, why do you not accept Harold Vere? 
He has been nothing but devotion to you since 


HAROLD VERE 


71 


we came here. Have you a hidden secret locked 
away in that heart of yours, which you will never 
divulge? Oh! do not protest — I know you have. 
Who is this Eugene whom you rave about so in 
your sleep? Did you know that you were a 
habitual somnambulist? Why, last night you 
almost frightened me out of my wits by spring- 
ing from the bed and rushing toward the window 
with your arms outstretched, crying: ‘Save him! 
save him! If you do not save him, I will jump 
into the ocean and die with him!’ Now, Naoma, 
I know there is something at the back of those 
words, and you shan’t rest until you tell me the 
whole story. Dare you refuse? If you do, I 
shall tell that chuffy Dutchman — who is so ear- 
nestly in love with you — that you have consented 
to be his wife, and for him to have it announced 
at once; and besides I shall tell old Mr. — ” 

“You will do nothing of the kind, Rejoice,” 
quickly accented Naoma. “I will gladly tell you 
all about it if you wont say anything more about 
that Dutchman, you heartless tease.” 

“I promise,” laughingly answered Rejoice, and 
she seated herself close to Naoma where the 
faintest accents of her voice would not be lost 
to her ears for she had long since wanted to hear 
the story. 

Naoma began by repeating her first meeting 
with Eugene, their acquaintance; her love for 
him; and last and saddest of all — the separation. 
She did not leave out one detail of the tragic 
story for she had often gone over it to herself. 
When she had finished she said: 

“Now Rejoice, do you wonder more why I do 


72 


HAROLD VERE 


not accept the many brilliant offers tendered me?” 

“N — o,” slowly answered Rejoice, as though 
she was weighing her words well before she 
spoke them, “but Naoma, he is dead, and it 
seems as if you might transfer your affections to 
another sphere. Now there is Harold Vere — ” 

“Harold Vere! Harold Vere! Rejoice, that is 
all I can hear from you; I am sick and tired of 
hearing his name, and besides” — lower — “I half 
distrust that man.” 

“How absurd! Mr. Vere is a nice fellow and 
he could give you a good home. Be his wife and 
in time to come you will learn to love him.” 

“But Rejoice, I do not wish to marry. I loved 
Eugene dearly, and I love the memory of him 
still.” 

“But Naoma, you are alone in the world, and 
if you were to marry; you would have a home of 
your own. Perhaps you will wonder why I am 
so urgent in this matter and I will tell you why. 
It is my own great, happiness that prompts me to 
speak to you as I do. Now listen, Naoma! Bend 
your pretty head nearer, I do not want even the 
walls to hear my secret. I am to be married be- 
fore long to Mr. Cray man — Jess Cray man, the 
dearest, and best man in the world. Naoma, you 
and Harold must wed the day we do. Our wed- 
ding trousseau shall be the same, and it shall be 
one of the grandest weddings ever recorded. 
Naoma, please do not say me nay, dear. Harold 
is only waiting for your answer. How many 
times has he already asked you?” 

“I really don’t know, Rejoice, but please let 
the subject rest for awhile and we will talk of it 


HAROLD VERE 


73 


later. I am going for a walk now, perhaps I will 
have made up my mind before I return. I sup- 
pose I need not ask you to accompany me as you 
are busy with your letters.” 

“No, thank you, I shall remain in doors.” 

Naoma walked down near the shore and stood 
looking at the limped lake. Finally she seated 
herself upon a rock and was soon lost in thought. 
Her mind was traveling back to the dim back- 
ground of the past. Old-time memories came 
rushing back filling her dainty head to a burst- 
ing capacity. 

The great sun shot a ray of good night parting 
and dipped from view below the horizon. 

Naoma was startled from her reverie by hear- 
ing a light footstep approaching and turning, 
she saw a tall, sombre-clad figure coming toward 
her. The lady was heavily veiled and she could 
not see her features. She passed on, never paus- 
ing to speak, and looking after her, Naoma felt 
a strange, uncontrollable fear creep over her. 
She watched the sombre-clad figure until she 
disappeared behind a clump of bushes, then she 
again resumed her interrupted train of thought. 
She was thinking of Harold Yere. Should she 
accept him? True, Eugene was dead and she 
should never see him more. 

She would ask Harold to give her a week in 
which to make up her mind. 

Again Naoma’s thoughts were interrupted by 
an owl that flew screechingly near her head, and 
springing up she was frightened to see that 
twilight was fast fading. She arose and cast 
one glance over the lake, then turned her steps 


74 


HAROLD YE RE 


toward the hotel. She had scarcely proceeded 
ten steps when she came face to face with Harold 
Vere. 

He had been looking for her the past half hour 
and had given up the search when he came un- 
expectedly upon her. 

“Why, Naoma, you here at this hour? Aren’t 
you afraid of ghosts?” 

“Nonsense! I am not so foolish as to believe 
in ghosts.” 

“But have you not heard the legend of yonder 
cliff? If you have not, come and let us see 
where the jealous wife pushed her unfaithful 
husband to his death and then threw her own 
wayward body down to destruction.” 

The moon had risen and the lake was dotted 
here and there by dozens of skiffs. Naoma saw 
Rejoice and Mr. Crayman dart from the shore in 
a pretty craft, then she and Harold turned their 
steps and attention toward the legend cliff. 


THE MIDNIGHT TRAGEDY 


75 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE MIDNIGHT TRAGEDY. 

When they had reached the fatal spot, Harold 
carefulfy repeated to Naoma the sad, tragic 
story. 

And to-night the same tragic scene would be 
enacted! 

Had Harold and Naoma looked behind them 
they would have seen a sombre-clad figure with 
fiery red eyes crouching behind a clump of 
bushes. 

When Harold had finished his story, he be- 
sought Naoma to be his wife. 

“Answer me to-night, Naoma, I start on a 
long journey to-morrow. Nay, I leave to-night 
if you do not promise to be my wife.” 

Ah! Harold Vere, little did you think how 
soon you were to start on your long, long jour- 
ney which is inevitable to all. 

“Answer, Naoma, will you be my wife? Do 
you know you have never smiled at me? I would 
be willing to throw myself down this cliff for 
one sweet smile from those dear lips, knowing it 
was all my own.” 

“Then go.” answered Naoma, smiling faintly, 


76 


THE MIDNIGHT TRAGEDY 


and she turned to retrace her steps towards the 
hotel. 

“Naoma, you have not given your answer; you 
may find me gone to-morrow and you may never 
see me more.” 

He thought that by telling her this he could 
get the desired answer from her. 

“Harold Vere, I do not love you. Would you 
want a wife who did not care for you? I will 
give you my final answer now, and it is no!” 

“Naoma, you do not, you cannot mean it. I 
love you too well to give you up. I dare, I defy 
anyone else to marry you, I would shoot them at 
the altar! 

But Naoma had fled wildly towards the hotel 
and did not hear his last threat, and well she did 
not for her future life would have been one of 
dread. 

Some instinct, some nameless something had 
prompted Naoma to answer this man as she did. 

Who says we do not have presentiments?” 

Harold Vere stood angrily thinking. He must 
win this fair girl and her thousauds, come what 
may. A.s he stood musing thus, he was con- 
fronted by the sombre-clad figure. Noislessly 
she approached and paused in front of him. 

Raising his head, Harold Vere saw the figure 
before him. The sombre-clad figure spoke sneer- 
ingly: 

“I dare say you do not know me.” 

“My God! Jura, you here?” 

“Yes; here, vile man, to save another fair girl 
from a fate worse than death. So, you would 
wed her would you and torture another victim in 


THE MIDNIGHT TRAGEDY 


77 


the flames of your wicked heart. You thought 
you were well rid of me when you placed me in 
an insane asylum, did you? But I escaped their 
vigilance and followed you. Yes, followed you, 
and you shall not escape me this time, fiend in- 
carnate. You reproached, you scorned, you up- 
braided and left me, all for naught. This 
Naoma, whom you were just speaking to, called 
you Harold Vere, did she not? That is another 
alias, is it? How many more assumed cogno- 
mens, Harold Wayne? You have rejected, 
scorned me. Remember, the one who said ‘Hell 
hath no fury like a woman scorned’ knew what 
they were talking about. Just one year ago to- 
night we were married. Do not try to speak, I 
will not hear you. I heard you tell that fair 
Naoma that you would throw yourself down this 
cliff for one smile from her dear lips; you re- 
ceived the smile but you did not go down the 
cliff as you contracted to do, and now I shall 
force you to redeem that promise. Do not 
tremble, I shall go with you, I could not trust 
your wicked soul alone, even in death. May 
God forgive and save us both. Farewell to earth 
and all that’s earthly!” 

And before Harold Wayne knew what course 
to pursue, Jura, his injured wife, had grasped 
him and with superhuman strength had thrown 
herself upon him and down, down they went in- 
to the lake below! Such is the vengeance of 
God. Harold Wayne well deserved the fate he 
met. He was a forger, a robber, living highly 
on his ill-gotten gains. No matter how much we 
sin, or how far away we go to hide that sin, it 


78 


THE MIDNIGHT TRAGEDY 


will track us down and recoil with double ven- 
geance on our heads. Then let us lead a pure, 
noble, upright life and “be what we would have 
others think we are.” 

No one found the wayward bodies of Harold 
Wayne and his wife. Only the dark waters knew 
their secret. Their forms caught on a crag be- 
neath the surface of the waves and day by day 
the rippling waters sing a requiem over them. 

None commented on their absence at the hotel, 
and Naoma guessed Harold had kept his promise 
and gone away. And so he had! 

But we will leave this uncanny secret with the 
waves and end this tragic chapter. 


79 


“in the shadow of the pines” 


CHAPTER XVI. 

“in the shadow of the pines. ” 

Where did we leave Eugene Erring-ton? O 
yes, at Buffalo, contemplating- a visit to Lake 
Champlain. At last he has reached his destina- 
tion and is met by his friend, Jesse Crayman. 

Jess greeted Eug-ene warmly; they had been 
firm friends from childhood. 

“You are just in time, Eugene, old boy, I am 
to be married soon, and I want you for my ‘best 
man.’ ” 

“Going to be married! Now, I thought I was 
coming to fish, row, and have a good time, and 
here you say I must be ‘best man,’ the very thing 
I detest unless it is with some pretty girl, and I 
have about decided to live a life of single blessed- 
ness.” 

“Come now, Eugene, you know you’ll help me 
out, and besides I have such a pretty girl picked 
out for you. I shall introduce her to you to- 


80 


IN BIIE SHADOW OF THE PINES 


morrow, and not one hour sooner, for I want to 
talk to you myself, and were she here, my unim- 
portant personage would diminish into a mere 
speck of nothingness, nor could I get a word in 
edgwise, for your loquacity always did exeed 
mine. Shall I give you her name by way of 
starting?” 

“No, sir; I told you I was going to as- 
sume a bachelor’s life, did I not? If any of 
them ask you, tell the ladies I am a confirmed, 
stingy old bachelor.” 

“But, Eugene, you deceive your looks, what 
about that?” 

“Bother the looks. I am going around looking 
as sour and ugly as I possibly can,” and Eugene 
made a wry face which caused them both to 
laugh. 

“But my dear Eugene, you will exchange 
those distorted features for the winning smile 
when you see the face of fair Naoma.” 

“Naoma! Naoma who? Tell me her other 
name please?” 

“Oh yes, old boy, I have you interested at last 
have I? mind now, you are forgetting your wry 
face.” 

“Stop your jesting, Crayman, I am in earnest. 
I once knew a Naoma whose fair face has haunt- 
ed me for almost three years. I am serious now. 
Tell me her cognomen, please.” 

“Really, Eugene, this is growing interesting; 
there’s a romance in the wind. My! If Sister 
Sallie were to hear you speak in that sad, ear- 
nest manner she would soon have a touching ro- 
mantic story written as long as from here to yon- 


81 


“in the shadow of the pines” 

der— ouch! Eugene, let go, you are hurting my 
vaccinated arm, what are you babbling about — 
Oh yes, her other name, her cognomen you say? 
Well, I do believe I’ve forgotten it, but let’s see, 
it is Barstow — Bruno — or something like that. 
But tell me all about it old boy. I know you 
have — like most of us — a little romance of some 
kind, and I”ll bet you my hat there’s a woman in 
the case. So?” 

“Yes, Jess, you are right; there is, or was, 
rather, a woman in the case. When you spoke 
the name Naoma, a little hope rose in my heart, 
but it is crushed now. Come to my room to- 
night and I’ll tell you all. Go away and leave 
me alone, I do not want any supper to-night. I 
will go for a row and you may go to your lady 
love,” and Eugene turned away and went 
for his guitar which he had brought with him as 
he was passionately fond of music. 

Eugene seated himself on a rustic seat beneath 
a spreading pine. 

He ran his shapely fingers lightly over the 
strings, then in a masterful way he softly picked, 
“The Rain Drop Waltz,” “Sweet Bye and Bye,” 
“Tell City Waltz,” and then as if Fate's own 
fingers were touching the strings, he played in a 
sad, sweet pathos, “Home, Sweet Home.” 

Eugene did not know that he had a rapt listen- 
er. Standing just in the rear of him was. Nao- 
ma, her trembling form hidden by a friendly 
pine. She had just returned from a walk, and 
twilight was fast giving way to the sombre 
shades of night. The sweet strains of the 
guitar had reached her ears and held her spell 


82 


“in the shadow of the pines' 


bound. How strangely familiar those strains! 

Whom but Eugene had she ever heard bring 
forth such music as that? Could it be Eugene? 
Could some unknown fairy have saved him from 
a watery grave? Impossible she must not let her 
mind dwell upon this for he was dead. She 
stood listening attentively to the music. 

“If only he would sing that I might hear his 
voice,” softly whispered Naoma to herself. As 
though in answer to her wish, Eugene began to 
sing softly: 

“Come back to me, sweeheart, 

And love me as before; 

Come back, back to me, sweetheart, 

And leave me nevermore. 

In life’s dark pathway 
The sun no longer shines, 

Come, love, and meet me 
In the shadow of the pines.” 

Naoma stood rooted to the ground. Why did 
memory play with her so cruelly? This man had 
Engene’s voice, his sister Annetta had his 
actions; everywhere she went someone character- 
ized him, something came to her to remind her 
of him. 

Naoma turned away and went in the direction 
of the hotel. As she turned from the spot where 
she had stood she unconsciously murmured 
“Eugene!” Slight as was her articulation the 
whispering winds bore the sadly murmured 
name to Eugene’s quick ears and springing up, 
he muttered: “Who called my name?” and glanc- 
ing about he saw no one, nor did he receive any 
answer. 


“in the shadow of the pines’ 


83 


He soliloquized: “As sure as there is a 

heaven above me, that was Naoma’s voice; am I 
always to be haunted by the memory of her? 
Oh, Fate, why so unkind?” 

He dropped again in the rustic seat. His face 
was clouded and his thoughts were in the deep- 
est gloom. 

A strange world, this. In our sorest distress, 
unexpectedly to us, the never weary finger of 
Fate poises high her ceaseless shuttle and into 
our darkest days weaves golden strands of sun- 
shine. And so it was with Eugene and Naoma. 
Both were bewailing their sad lot, thinking life 
was not worth living, but to-morrow both would 
think very, very different. 


84 


FACE TO FACE 


CHAPTER XVII. 

FACE TO FACE. 

The day after Naoma’s adventure, dawned 
dark and cloudy. Naoma did not leave her room, 
being interested in a new book given her by 
Rejoice. Late in the afternoon she concluded to 
take a walk as the clouds had dispersed and the 
sun had almost vanished. She passed from the 
hotel out to her favorite nook, a rock near the 
edge of the lake where she had been wont to sit. 
After remaining there for some time, she arose 
and unconsciously wended her way toward the 
legend cliff. Was it Fate that drew Eugene 
Errington to the self-same spot? Be that as it 
may, he was there gazing over the rocky preci- 
pice thinking, with a shudder, that the place 
presented a weird, uncanny look. 

How strangely still everything seemed. 

Far down below, the waves seemed to be sing- 
ing a dirge. He was on the point of leaving 
when he heard light footsteps approaching. He 
wondered who could be coming at this hour, for 
rumor had it that the cliff was haunted and that 


FACE TO FACE 


85 


was why Eugene had come, he had never seen a 
haunt, hence his visit. He wanted to see what 
these immortal beings were like. Nearer the 
footsteps came, and turning his head, Eugene 
beheld in the rear, not ten paces away, a woman 
dressed in white! 

The moon had risen, and looking closer, 
Eugene could plainly discern her features. 

“Great heavens!” he muttered, “who are you? 
Are you a vision from the other world come to 
torment me too?” 

Naoma approached Eugene with outstretched 
hands hoarsely saying: 

“And you? Who are you? Are you Eugene 
incarnate? Were you saved from a watery grave 
in the mighty Pacific?” 

“One question at a time, please. And now it 
is my time to interrogate. Now, who are you? 
Answer me, quick! Is it someone trying to 
frighten me? By George! Crayman, is it you? 
No foolishness, now! Whoever you are, you 
would do well in a theater acting the role of 
ghost, standing with your arms outstretched in 
that ghost-like fashion. But, be you ghost or 
human, if you care to know my name I am 
Eugene Errington, at your service.” 

“Eugene! Eugene Errington! Oh! can it be 
he? Tell me, quick, are you the Eugene I knew 
long ago? Ohf Eugene, is it you? And do you 
not know me?” 

“Know the deuce — excuse the language, please 
— but how should I know you? And again I re- 
peat, who are you, woman, that you use my 
name so familiarly?” 


86 


FACE TO FACE 


“I am Naoma!” 

•‘Naoma? It cannot be she in the flesh. She 
was drowned in the Pacific. My God! has the 
ocean given up its dead!” 

Nearer Naoma came. 

“I am Naoma Amelia Bruco; if it be Eugene, 
am I forgotten?” 

“I cannot! I dare not believe Naoma — my 
Naoma is alive, and yet, the strong resemblance. 
Back! woman, this place is too small for both of 
us, so goodnight, you can promenade the haunt- 
ed cliff alone!” 

At the words “haunted cliff,” Naoma felt a 
chill run over her, and looking about, she saw 
Eugene rapidly leaving. She sprang after him, 
crying: “Do not leave me. I am frightened 
here alone!” 

At the sound of the pleading words, Eugene 
glanced back and saw the white apparition com- 
ing towards him. 

“A ghost to be sure,” he muttered, “and chas- 
ing me, too; well my curiosity has been satisfied. 
I’ll never hunt for another ghost,” and he sped 
toward the hotel, Naoma in close pursuit. 

On, on they sped, neither gaining nor losing on 
the other. 

When Eugene reached the lighted grounds of 
the hotel he paused abruptly and quickly faced 
the pursuing Naoma. 

“For the last time I ask, who are you that you 
pursue me thus? Are you really a ghost? — but 
pshaw! I don’t believe in ghosts,” 

Didn’t seem much like it, did it, reader? 

Eugene peered cautiously out in the darkness, 


FACE TO FACE 


87 


for no sign could he see of anyone. The ghost 
had gone as completely as if the earth had open- 
ed and received it. 

Eugene was baffled. What did it mean? After 
he had gotten over his fright, for he really was 
frightened, he began to think. Could it be 
Naoma? He had read of such things. And 
what did this woman mean by asking if he was 
saved from a watery grave in the mighty Pacific? 
Surely it was Naoma. He must search and find 
her. He would get Crayman to help him, but — 
no — he would have to tell Crayman the whole 
story and how he would laugh at him for run- 
ning! Now that his scare was over, Eugene was 
braver than before and he firmly resolved to find 
the person who had given him such a fright. 
Eugene searched all over the grounds and 
through the hotel, but in vain. He even went 
back to the legend cliff in hopes that he might 
see the lady who had pursued him. After search- 
ing a long time and seeing no one, he went to 
the edge of the moonlit lake, untied a skiff, 
sprang in, and with several strokes of his mus- 
cular arms was skimming out over the peaceful 
waters. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts. 
The lake was dotted here and there by people 
who were enjoying a moonlight ride. 

Now and then he could hear the stentorian 
voice of a man mingled with the soft, musical 
laugh of some pretty maiden. Unconsciously, his 
gaze was directed to a skiff coming towards him 
in which sat only one occupant. 

Nearer the skiff glided, and Eugene saw it was 
a woman. The moonbeams fell on the golden 


88 


FACE TO FACE 


head and the hair shone like molten gold. The 
lady was softly singing-. Eugene listened. What 
a strange sensation came creeping over him. 
How sweetly familiar that voice. He seemed to 
be standing on the ocean liner, Silverwave. 
Now a mighty wave was coming. His head was 
swimming. Was the skiff turning over? He 
was brought out of his reverie by hearing a 
sweet voice say, “pardon me, please,” and look- 
ing up he saw that the oar he held in his right 
hand had been knocked from his grasp by that of 
the lady’s. He tipped his hat and was passing 
on when a shriek arose from the lady that caused 
him to glance back. Terrified, he saw she was 
standing erect in the skiff which was dangerous- 
ly toppling from side to side. The moon fell full 
in her face and he recognized her. He sprang 
towards her to save her. 

“Naoma!” 

“Eugene!” 

Her nerves gave way and she toppled over the 
side of the skiff and plunged head downward in- 
to the rippling waves. 

Eugene sprang after her. In a few moments 
they came to the surface and Eugene struck 
boldly for the skiff which had floated a little dis- 
tance away. 

He reached the skiff, clambered over the side 
with his beautiful burden, then gave vent to his 
feelings. 

“Naoma! darling, I have found you at last; no 
mistake this time dear. In the waves we parted; 
in the waves we meet!” 

“Eugene! we meet again, when these three 
Lof C. 


FACE TO FACE 


89 


weary years IVe bitterly mourned you dead?” 

“Yes; darling- we meet ag-ain to part no more, 
only by death, the inevitable.” 

Their feeling-s were too great for words and 
silently they sat clasping each others hands, Na- 
oma quietly weeping for joy. The skiff grated 
on the landing at the shore and Eugene sprang 
out assisting Naoma to arise. They went at 
once to the hotel and changed their drenched 
garments, then went for a stroll along the lake. 

Eugene related to Naoma how he had been 
saved and how he had thought she was lost. 

In turn Naoma told her own experience of how 
she had bitterly mourned him dead. They both 
had a hearty laugh over Eugene’s scare. 

“A great wonder you did not take me for a 
ghost Naoma, ha! ha! Brave girl that you are.” 

“Nay Eugene, I believed from the first that it 
was you, but I was afraid to think it too strong- 
ly for had it not been you the disappointment 
would have been too great for me.” 

“And now Naoma, answer me this question and 
still my fluttering heart; have you been true to 
me dear, all these weary months even when you 
thought me dead? Or have we only met to part 
again?” 

Eugene’s face was pale and with bated breath 
be waited as though for his life or death sentence. 

“Yes; Eugene I have been true to you these 
three long, weary years. And you? — you — are — 
to marry — your cousin Celeste for your sister An- 
netta told me so,” and she mournfully dropped 
her head as though those few words had cost her 
a life time. 


90 


FACE TO FACE 


“Say not so, Naoma darling-; she is soon to 
wed another, she broke the engagement with me 
because she loved another better and I was glad 
Naoma, for I loved you though I thought you 
dead. I had concluded to live a lonely bachelor 
life dear, because I loved you and you alone. No 
other has taken the sacred place you held in my 
heart. Figuratively speaking, sweetheart you 
hold my life in your dainty hands, it is yours to 
adorn and beautify, to trample or to ruin; which 
shall it be? I await the sentence. I am free to woo 
and wed you, darling, if you only say so. Arnswer 
me now, do not those starlit eyes tell me that you 
love me, and ” 

“Hello! Eugene, came a voice from the rear, 
“So, I’ve found you at last old boy. I’ve been 
searching for you at Rejoice’s request for the last 
hour; she has a fancy that she is about to unravel 
a romance connected with you and Miss Bruco— 
I remember the name now — but she wants to see 
you first 

Jesse paused as he saw Naoma standing in the 
shadow. “Oh! I beg pardon, Mr. Errington, al- 
low me to present to you, Miss Bruco. 

Eugene's answer was a merry peal of laughter. 

Jesse stared, feeling as if he should like to 
choke him for his lack of manners. 

“Why do you stare, Jesse? but perhaps an ex- 
planation would go well just now.” 

“I am thinking myself it would be very appro- 
priate.” 

“Ha! ha! ha! I’ve a notion to keep you in sus- 
pense and enjoy your rising curiosity like you did 
mine, when years ago you encouraged me to poke 


FACE TO FACE 


91 


my finger in a box where you had secreted sever- 
al angry hornets; you remember my curiosity 

would not let me refrain ” 

“Do hush and let the past bury the past, you 
will have Miss Bruco thinking I was a naughty 
boy. Now for your explanation, or I’ll tell how 
a fine watermelon mysteriously walked out of 

old man Williard’s field, and ” 

“Even we are now, and let’s stop at that. At- 
tention! and I’ll tell my — our romance.” 

Eugene related from beginning to end the 
story of his andNaoma’s brief courtship. When he 
had finished Jesse eagerly asked with a twinkle 
in his off eye, ‘ ‘and the end — what is the end to be?” 

“The end is that Naoma and I will wed the 
hour you and Rejoice do, shall it be so, fair 
queen of the blondes?” and stepping to Naoma’s 
side Eugene took the fair little hand in both his 
own. She blushingly dropped her head and did 
not answer. 

“Silence gives consent,” shouted the taunting 
Jesse and away he went to tell Rejoice the good 
news. 


92 


rms 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

FINIS. 

When Rejoice heard the strange story of the 
reunion, she was overjoyed. 

“So I am to have my wish after all, we shall 
be married at the same hour. Oh 1 1 am so glad,” 
and she danced around the room engaging in a 
cunning, comical cake walk. 

It was as Rejoice said. She and Naoma were 
robed the same. Their wedding trousseau was 
something elegant, their wedding something 
grand. 

After the wedding which took place a fort- 
night after the lover’s reunion, the happy party 
went to Western Kentucky. 

Annetta Errington was glad to claim Naoma 
as her sister for she had loved her from the first. 
She was happy to know that Eugene had found 
his lost love for he had bitterly mourned her 
dead. 

Eugene atld Naoma wandered through the vine 
clad porch into the cool, pleasant parlor. As 
Naoma entered the parlor door the first object 
that arrested her gaze, was the painting of her 
that Eugene had sent home. 


FINIS 


93 


“Why, husband, that picture interests, and im- 
presses me, and something- about it seems dis- 
tantly familiar, who is it?” 

“My dear wife, do you not know? Who but 
you could have that fair hair, the dainty contour, 
the pretty starlit eyes; all is perfect except those 
sweet eyes, and my brush and paint cannot con- 
jure anything- to compete with their brig-htness.” 

“Thank you, husband, you are very compli- 
mentary,” and Naoma smiled faintly throug-h the 
tears that were fast g-athering- in her pretty eyes 
as she thoug-ht how near she came losing- this no- 
ble husband. 

And Rejoice and Jesse? 

Lord and Lady Voorhees were g-lad of Re- 
joice’s choice, for Jesse was a noble son of a life 
long- friend of theirs. 

The sands of three years have washed slowly 
from the shores of Time since Eug-ene and 
Naoma met, loved, were separated and reunited 
ag-ain. Reader, isn’t God g-ood to us? 

And now let us leave these two happy couples, 
hoping- that their matrimonial bark will be g-ent- 
ly tossed on life’s stormy sea. 


THE End. 










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